I  I 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


a:  _- 

5  § 

-J  rt 

1  5* 

Q  — 

ul  ^ 

6  i 


The 

Wild 

Fowl6rs 


with 

Many  Practical 
Hints  concerning 
Shot -Guns  and 
Ammunition,  the 
Natural  History 
of  Wild -Fowl, 
and  the  Chivalric 
Sportsman's  Best 
Method  of  Tak- 
ing the  Game 


By 

CHARLES  BRADFORD 


Q.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

New  York       Ubc  Ifcnicfeerbocfcer  jpress  London 


COPYRIGHT,  1901 

BY 

CHARLES   BRADFORD 


Ube  "Knickerbocker  press,  flew  Jporfe 


TO 

GROVER   CLEVELAND 

A  SPORTSMAN   AND   NATURE   LOVER  OF 

RARE   QUALITY 

THESE   LITTLE   CHAPTERS  ARE 
RESPECTFULLY   DEDICATED 


B7 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — POINT  SHOOTING  FOR  BLACK- 
DUCK    3 

II. — THE  SPORTSMAN'S  LAIR  .         .  31 

III. — "  THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD  "  53 

IV. — THE  MERRICK  ROAD       .         .  65 

V. — CAP'IN  GRIEB,  BAYMAN  .         .  87 

VI. — "ROCKED   IN  THE  CRADLE  OF 

THE  DEEP  "  .         .         .         .99 
VII. — SETH  FIELDING'S  FIRST  LESSON 

IN  BATTERY  SHOOTING         .  113 
VIII. — THE  BAYMAN'S  CHOICE  .         .  133 
IX. — THE  CONTEMPLATIVE  SPORTS- 
MEN        147 

X. — THE  LAST  CHAPTER        .         .  163 


I 

Point  Shooting  for  Blackduck 


1 
§ 


I 

Point  Shooting  for  Blackduck 

"  Reading  and  writing  are  inflicted  by  school- 
masters, but  a  crack  shot  is  the  work  of  God." — 
FRANK  FORESTER. 

season,  midwinter; 
the  hour,  an  early  one, 
for  city  beings,  at  least, — 
four  in  the  morning;  the 
approaching  day,  one  of  the 
midweek,  with  full  promise  of  crispness 
and  brightness ;  the  place,  aboard  a  sturdy 
sloop,  making  out  the  little  creek  at  Ami- 
tyville  into  the  open  water  of  the  Great 
South  Bay  of  Long  Island ;  the  company, 
one  Adam  Grieb,  skipper,  who  has^fol- 
lered  th'  bay  nigh  on  teh  sixty  year  an* 
more";  Doctor  Edward  Bradley,  who, 
though  a  city  man,  looks  as  strong  and 
weather-stained  as  the  bayman ;  and  Peri- 
tus,  the  Doctor's  young  companion. 
3 


4  The  Wild-Fowlers 

We  will  follow  the  course  of  these  jovial 
guns  in  a  half-day's  gentle  sporting  on  a 
point  for  blackduck.  The  crisp  air  and 
brisk  exercise  will  stir  our  tired  lungs  and 
stiffened  limbs  to  better  action,  and  the 
mind  will  enjoy  the  exhilaration  of  the 
genial  pursuit. 

"  You  see,  Peritus,"  said  Doctor  Brad- 
ley, "  we  start  at  four,  two  hours  before 
daylight,  as  we  must  be  on  the  point 
nicely  concealed  and  with  all  the  decoys 
rigged  out  before  the  light  o'  day  affords 
the  blackduck  too  great  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  our  movements.  He  has  the 
eyes  of  an  eagle  for  distance  and  can  see 
in  the  dark  as  well  as  the  cat  and  owl." 

"  Why  not  start  the  night  before  and 
sleep  on  the  way  to  the  shooting-ground, 
as  we  do  in  bay  snipe-shooting,  and  as 
Captain  Liebnow  took  us  out  when  we 
shot  from  the  battery?  This  morning 
cruise  is  a  bitter  cold  one,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Why,  we  sail  in  th'  mornin'  'cause 
we  haint  a-goin'  es  fer,  'cause  th'  nights 


The  Wild-Fowlers  5 

be  longer  now,  and  'cause  thar  beant  no 
'vantage  nohow  in  a-goin'  earlier/'  re- 
plied the  Captain.  '  We  mote  es  well  'a* 
sailed  in  th'  night,  genelmen,  had  yer 
wished  it,  though;  I  allus  do  it  in  th' 
summer  an'  when  I  go  out  with  th'  bat- 
tery." 

"  Ah,  boy,  you  must  stand  the  cold," 
said  Bradley ;  "the  sport  pays  for  it.  This 
is  the  great  season  for  birds,  though  the 
tyro  finds  more  comfort  in  gunning  at  a 
less  hardy  period — October  and  early  No- 
vember. But  our  weather-beaten  baymen 
and  their  experienced  patrons  will  agree 
that  the  birds  are  more  plentiful  and  bet- 
ter-conditioned in  midwinter,  so  long  as 
the  great  lagoon  is  not  frozen  over.  Am 
I  not  correct,  Captain  ?" 

"  Kerrect  yer  be,  Doctor  Bradley." 
"  Now,  Peritus,"  continued  the  Doc- 
tor, "I  '11  play  skipper,  while  you  and 
Captain  Grieb  prepare  the  breakfast,  and 
don't  be  afraid  of  the  coffee,  Captain. 
Give  us  plenty  of  it.  You  baymen  know 


6  The  Wild-Fowlers 

all  about  tides  and  clamholes,  some  of 
you  know  a  little  about  ducks,  but  there 
is  n't  one  of  you  who  ever  tasted  a  real 
cup  of  coffee — I  '11  make  it  myself!  "  and 
the  fat  Doctor  forthwith  crouched  down 
into  the  tiny  cabin,  and  soon  had  Peritus 
as  busy  with  the  pots  and  dishes  as  old 
Grieb  had  been  with  decoys  and  rubber 
boots  at  an  earlier  hour. 

Refreshed  by  an  immense  quantity  of 
bacon,  eggs,  toast,  broiled  broadbill,  and 
the  Doctor's  excellent  coffee,  our  three 
friends  made  ready  to  anchor  the  sloop — 
"  put  the  hook  over,"  as  the  Captain  ex- 
pressed it — and  launch  a  smaller  craft,  the 
deadgrass  -  lined  dingy,  in  which  the 
fowlers  were  to  spend  the  morning  snugly 
hidden  in  the  high  salt  meadow  grass  of 
the  selected  point. 

"I  '11  put  you  genelmen  in  shape,  and 
then  move  away  a  mile  er  so  in  th' 
sloop,"  said  Grieb,  as  he  towed  his  two 
charges  toward  the  point  of  meadowland, 
the  old  fellow  standing  in  the  centre  of  a 


The  Wild-Fowlers  7 

still  smaller  craft,  shoving  it  and  the 
towed  dingy  with  a  ten-foot  pole— the 
"  stick,"  as  he  described  it  to  Peritus. 

The  gunners  were  made  comfortable 
with  rough  gray  blankets  and  hay;  dead 
grass  was  piled  up  all  about  their  boat  to 
make  the  hiding-place  as  little  conspicu- 
ous as  possible,  and  the  troop  of  decoys, 
numbering  fully  half  a  hundred,  with  an 
equal  scattering  of  blackduck  and  red- 
head, were  nicely  arranged  in  the  shallow 
tide-water  in  front  of  the  now  eager 
sportsmen. 

"  Now,  genelmen,  I  says  es  ye  'd  bes' 
not  smoke  fer  haf  a  hour  till  we  see  es 
what  's  in  this  part  o'  th'  bay/'  were  the 
old  Captain's  parting  words  as  he  shoved 
away  toward  the  sloop. 

"  All  right,  Captain,"  replied  Doctor 
Bradley ;  "  have  a  good  meal  for  us  at  ten 
o'clock — some  little-necks,  bluepoints,  a 
baked  cod,  and  a  lot  more  roast  duck — 
down,  Peritus!  What  's  that  bunch  off 
east,  Captain  ? "  and  the  Doctor  and  his 


8  The  Wild-Fowlers 

young  friend  hid  down  snugly  in  the  hay 
at  the  bottom  of  their  shelter,  as  the  old 
bayman  shouted  back : 

"  Broadbills,  an*  a-comin'  this  way, 
sure  es  eel-pots!  Down,  genelmen ! 
Down  like  fiddler  crabs!  Ye  '11  get  a 
shot  teh  unct  er  my  name  beant  Capem 
Grieb!" 

Far  off  in  the  gray  east,  twenty  birds — 
broadbill,  as  the  Captain  truthfully  identi- 
fied the  species — could  be  plainly  seen, 
bunched  like  blackbirds  and  coming 
surely  nearer  and  nearer  the  hidden  en- 
emy. Captain  Grieb  poled  hastily  toward 
the  sloop,  and,  arriving  too  late  to  move 
the  conspicuous  craft,  did  the  very  next 
best  thing — crouched  down  in  the  bottom 
of  his  little  dingy,  close  to  the  dark  side 
of  the  larger  boat,  and  muttered  to  him- 
self: 

"  Broadbills  beant  point  birds  in  this 
bay  'cept  at  'tickler  'casions,  an'  th' 
chances  beant  good  fer  th'  Doctor  teh  git 
'em  inter  th'  decoys." 


The  Wild-Fowlers  9 

But  it  proved  to  be  a  "  'tickler  'casion," 
and  the  plump  little  bunch  went  right 
smack  into  the  wooden  flock  of  floating 
imitative  fowl,  and — bang!  bang!  boom! 
boom !  echoed  over  the  water  and  up 
against  the  side  of  the  sloop. 

"  Hooray  teh  yer,  genelmen!"  fairly 
yelled  the  ruddy  skipper  as  he  stuck  up 
his  shaggy  head  over  the  edge  of  his 
dingy,  just  as  three  dead  broadbills 
dipped  into  the  water  and  slowly  drifted 
in  the  tideway.  '  Yer  shootin'  mighty 
strong,  fer  fair;  I  ain't  seed  eny  broad- 
bill  come  inter  a  point  a  like  that  in  sixty 
seasons;  who  be  a-shootin'  that  black- 
powder  gun  ? — you,  Doctor  Bradley,  I  '11 
bet  a  bushel  o'  clam,  rake  and  all. " 

4  Yes,"  cried  the  Doctor,  flushed  and 
excited  at  so  good  a  start;  "  yes,  I  'm 
shooting  black  powder,  but  just  to  show 
Peritus  the  difference  in  the  old  and  the 
new  brands,  that  's  all.  Peritus  got  a 
bird,  Captain,  the  first  as  came  down. 
He  missed  with  his  first  barrel — I  knew 


io         The  Wild-Fowlers 

he  would,  for  he  shot  at  the  whole  bunch. 
But  he  got  one  nicely  with  the  second 
discharge,  as  he  picked  out  his  bird.  I 
made  a  double  easily,  but  my!  they  were 
going  all  right  when  I  gave  the  last 
trigger!" 

The  Captain  had  by  this  time  picked 
up  the  fowl  and  was  off  again  toward  the 
sloop,  which  he  soon  had  under  way,  the 
old  boat's  mainsail  breaking  out  heavily 
in  the  mild  morning  wind — a  steady  nor'- 
wester — as  the  clumsy  craft  slowly  legged 
it  to  the  east,  the  bayman,  all  smiles, 
waving  his  cap  as  a  parting  salute  to  his 
two  friends. 

lt  Peritus,  I  never  killed  a  broadbill 
from  a  point  before  to-day,"  said  the 
Doctor  to  his  young  friend  as  they  both 
got  down  snugly  again  out  of  sight  in  the 
hay  and  blankets,  "  though  I  have  often 
had  them  cross  the  decoys  and  shot  at 
them  at  long  range.  We  're  very  lucky. 
How  I  wish  Seth  Fielding  could  see 
this!" 


The  Wild-Fowlers         1 1 

"  The  broadbill  is  a  battery  bird,  I 
know/'  replied  the  young  man,  "  at  least 
here  in  the  saltwater  localities,  but  out 
West,  where  we  know  them  as  the  blue- 
bill  and  blackhead,  they  are  shot  at  from 
a  point  as  commonly  as  redhead,  canvas- 
back,  butterball,  mallard,  pintail,  and  the 
other  birds;  are  n't  they  ?  " 

"  Quite  true,  Peritus.  I  have  myself 
enjoyed  the  sport,  but  here,  as  you  say, 
they  are  better  killed  from  a  battery,  and 
are  as  seldom  taken  over  a  point  as  the 
blackduck  is  bagged  from  the  sink-box. 
We  shall  have  sport  to-day.  I  like  the 
conditions." 

The  two  men  lighted  their  pipes  and 
enjoyed  the  fumes  of  fragrant  plug-cut 
tobacco,  as  they  conversed  in  low  tones, 
the  older  man  not  for  a  moment  neglect- 
ing to  keep  careful  watch  on  all  sides. 

Far  to  the  eastern  point  of  the  bay, 
quietly  riding  on  the  shallow  water's  sur- 
face, like  an  immense  raft  of  small  wood, 
the  eye  could  plainly  discern  a  great  body 


12         The  Wild-Fowlers 

of  ducks,  mostly  broadbill  and  "  coot" 
(scoter),  with  one  or  two  small  bunches 
of  blackduck  riding  a  short  distance 
from  the  other  fowl,  and  at  least  twenty 
brent  geese  ("  brant  ")  skirting  the  great 
flock  to  the  north;  and  a  half-mile  this 
side  of  the  water  flock,  Captain  Grieb's 
sloop  loomed  up  plainly  as  the  old  craft 
made  to  the  south  of  the  birds,  the  Cap- 
tain intending  to  disturb  the  fowl  and 
drive  them  within  range  of  the  two  gun- 
ners. 

The  sun  had  not  risen,  but  the  eastern 
heavens  began  to  take  on  that  reddish- 
golden  hue,  and  a  smarter  breeze,  now 
breaking  out,  cleared  away  the  clouds  of 
mist  that  had  hung  over  the  great  body 
of  water.  Soon  huge  bars  of  warm  sun- 
light shot  up  in  the  sky  directly  in  front 
of  our  sportsmen's  point,  and  all  that  re- 
mained of  the  dull  gray  of  early  morn  was 
slowly  fading  in  the  far  west. 

"  That  big  flock  will  get  up  now,  Peri- 
tus,"  said  the  Doctor,  bending  over  lower 


The  Wild-Fowlers          13 

than  ever  and  peering  through  the  tall 
grasses  that  lined  the  cozy  hiding-place, 
as  his  companion  proudly  imitated  the 
movement,  "  and  we  must  prepare  to 
make  the  most  of  the  situation.  Now, 
boy,  don't  shoot  into  the  body  of  the 
flock,  nor  at  the  leader  birds,  else  you 
frighten  the  whole  flock  and  thus  ruin  our 
sport  for  the  day.  Let  the  great  cloud 
of  birds  go  by  and  then  pick  two  of  the 
last  bunch.  I  will  fire  after  you  have 
given  trigger.  If  we  shoot  at  the  fowl  in 
the  front,  all  those  that  follow  will  leave 
this  part  of  the  bay.  The  flock  will  not 
be  bunched.  The  birds  string  out  in  a 
line  a  mile  or  more  long  and  pass  in  small 
bunches.  You  '11  become  excited  and 
want  to  shoot  at  the  leader  bunch,  but 
don't  do  it;  restrain  yourself;  our  day  '11 
be  better  for  it.  The  brant  will  get  up 
first,  circle  in  the  air,  and  tail  along  with 
the  last  birds  to  take  wing.  All  of  the 
blackduck  will  come  head  on,  bangety- 
bang  into  our  decoys,  and  a  lot  of  them 


H         The  Wild-Fowlers 

will  light  among  the  stool.  Let  'em  do 
it;  don't  you  shoot  till  I  tell  you — till  the 
great  mass  has  gone  by.  Then  kill  a  rear 
bird  in  the  last  bunch,  and  with  your  sec- 
ond barrel  I  shall  look  for  you  to  stop  one 
of  the  blackduck  that  will  get  away  from 
the  decoys.  I  '11  try  for  redhead  and 
broadbill.  The  brant  won't  come  in  at 
all,  so  we  need  n't  bother  about  them." 

"  Are  you  sure  there  are  brant  there, 
Doctor  ?  I  thought  brant  frequented  the 
bay  only  in  early  spring  —  March  and 
April,"  and  Peritus  brought  his  gun — a 
handsome  double  fowling-piece  of  twelve- 
gauge — out  from  the  hay  and  stuck  the 
muzzles  through  the  blind  grass,  his 
companion  having  already  adjusted  his 
favorite  arm — a  ten-gauge  of  full  nine 
pounds. 

The  Doctor  did  not  answer,  but  instead 
signalled  his  young  friend  in  pantomime 
familiar  to  companion  gunners  to  keep 
quiet  and  well  down.  A  pair  of  sprigtails 
approached  from  the  rear  and  went  over 


The  Wild-Fowlers         15 

the  shooters*  heads  at  great  height  and 
speed,  but  their  wings  whistled  so  plainly 
that  the  old  man  was  startled  for  a 
moment. 

"  Ha!  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pintail,  good 
morning  to  you!  "  laughed  the  old  Doc- 
tor, as  he  again  glanced  in  the  direction 
of  the  bayman,  who  steadily  neared  the 
great  flock  of  fowl  on  the  water. 

*  Yes,  Peritus,"  said  he  in  a  half  whis- 
per, "  there  are  brant  among  them,  but, 
as  you  say,  the  brant  are  mostly  plentiful 
in  these  waters  in  early  spring.  The  mild 
weather  accounts,  perhaps,  for  these  few 
remaining  so  late  in  the  season.  Hush, 
boy!" 

As  he  uttered  this  sharp  warning,  his 
left  hand  stole  softly  to  Peritus's  knee 
and  the  two  fowlers  crouched  down  lower 
than  ever,  grasped  their  guns  nervously, 
and  stared  wildly  out  in  the  great  space 
beyond  the  decoys.  The  birds  began  to 
rise, — the  brant  first,  as  the  Doctor  pre- 
dicted,— and  old  Grieb  had  brought  his 


1 6         The  Wild-Fowlers 

sloop  about  so  that  the  clumsy  mainsail 
was  flopping  wildly  in  the  breeze. 

"  Remember,  Peritus,"  whispered  the 
Doctor  excitedly  to  the  boy  beside  him, 
as  three  couples  and  a  half  of  redhead 
shot  by  the  decoys  at  a  mile-a-minute 
clip, — "  don't  you  move  till  I  tell  you! 
Down,  down,  on  your  belly,  closer  still!  " 

Following  the  redhead  came  the  first 
two  bunches  of  broadbill,  and  from  then 
on  the  wild  fowl  filed  over,  around,  and 
on  all  sides  of  the  decoys  and  the  very 
blind  and  its  occupants.  Poor  Peritus 
was  ever  on  the  verge  of  giving  way  to 
the  severe  strain  he  was  subjected  to,  and 
his  companion  more  than  once  restrained 
him. 

The  scene  was  a  charming  one  to  both 
the  tyro  and  the  experienced  man.  Brant, 
broadbill,  blackduck,  redhead,  "coot" 
(scoter),  sprigtail,  old  squaw,  and  shel- 
drake all  wheeled  by  in  small  platoons, 
some  skimming  over  the  decoys,  others 
far  out  beyond  the  head  of  the  stool, 


The  Wild-Fowlers          17 

many  quite  over  the  blind,  and  nearly 
every  bird  within  gunshot  and  but  a  foot 
or  two  above  the  water. 

"Steady,  boy!"  whispered  the  Doc- 
tor, disturbed  by  Peritus's  excitement. 
'  Take  the  safety  off,  and  be  ready  ;  your 
bird  is  coming!  There!  Here  are  the 
blackduck!  See  them  'light!"  and  the 
old  man's  cheeks  glowed  with  youthful 
flame  and  his  eyes  glared  and  danced 
as  he  nervously  patted  Peritus  on  the 
leg. 

Five  couples  and  a  half  of  beautiful 
blackduck,  their  ruddy  feathers  glistening 
in  the  early  sunshine,  skimmed  into  the 
very  centre  of  the  flock  of  imitation  fowl, 
set  their  wings  fully  outstretched,  lowered 
their  feet,  and  dipped  into  the  salty  bay 
with  the  graceful  ease  of  a  brood  of  swans 
putting  out  into  some  mansion  pond. 

Other  bunches  of  the  same  species  went 
on  with  the  great  line  of  birds,  and  innum- 
erable brant  couples,  trios,  and  half-dozen 
sets  circled  about  in  the  air  on  all  sides, 


1 8         The  Wild-Fowlers 

but  never  near  by,  and  with  a  low  but 
steady  drifting  with  the  general  flight. 

'  The  last  birds  are  too  far  out,  Peri- 
tus,"  cried  the  Doctor,  "  so  take  you  this 
right  broadbill  coming  in  the  bunch  of 
five!  Hold  a  little  ahead — they  are  not 
swiftly  going — ignore  the  bunch  and  pull 
with  your  gun  in  motion!  Then  with 
your  second  barrel  take  you  the  first  of 
the  blackduck  that  rises  from  the  decoys. 
Do  not  mind  me.  A  foot  ahead  will  do 
on  the  broadbill !  Mark  him  well,  steady 
now,  there !  let  drive,  boy !  He  's  yours !  ' ' 

Peritus  fired,  a  foot  ahead,  as  his  com- 
panion ordered,  and  the  fowl  keeled  over, 
killed  quite  dead,  and  splashed  into  the 
water,  driving  the  spray  three  feet  into 
the  air,  and  wetting  the  decoys  with  a 
sparkling  shower.  Then,  rapidly  swing- 
ing the  gun  to  the  left,  the  young  fowler 
gave  trigger  at  a  towering  blackduck,  but 
missed  the  bird  by  a  full  half  foot,  shoot- 
ing under  and  too  far  to  the  left. 

The  Doctor  scored  a  double,  a  couple 


The  Wild-Fowlers         19 

of  redheads  tumbling  to  his  discharges 
and  dipping  into  the  bay  as  dead  as  Peri- 
tus's  first  bird,  which,  with  the  Doctor's 
pair,  floated  in  the  gentle  tideway  forty 
yards  from  the  blind. 

'Well  done,  Doctor !"  cried  Peritus, 
crouched  again  and  slipping  in  fresh  cart- 
ridges; "  well  done!  but  I  suppose  you  '11 
thrash  me  for  missing  the  blackduck." 

"No,  Peritus!  Never!  You  did  as 
well  as  a  hundred  other  fair  shots  could 
have  done  under  the  circumstances,  but 
you  erred,  boy,  as  I  '11  presently  explain 
to  you — no  more  black  powder  for  me  to- 
day, though  I  did  wish  to  use  up  these 
quarter-hundred  shells  and  at  the  same 
time  experiment  with  both  the  old  and 
the  new  brands  for  your  benefit;  but  it 
kicks  unmercifully  and  there  is  n't  wind 
enough  to  take  away  the  smoke  nicely 
so  as  to  clear  the  range  for  the  second 
barrel.  I  did  n't  mind  the  recoil  in  the 
old  days,  somehow,  and  the  smoke  was 
never  troublesome,"  and  the  Doctor  was 


20         The  Wild-Fowlers 

hurriedly  tossing  away  the  black-powder 
cartridges  and  extracting  half  a  hundred 
nitro  loads  from  his  sole-leather  ammuni- 
tion box. 

'  You  see,  Peritus,  I  could  avoid  the 
smoke  nuisance  of  the  black  powder  by 
using  nitro  in  the  first  barrel,  and  I  'd  do 
this  if  the  blamed  blacks  did  n't  kick  so;, 
my  shoulder  's  quite  sore  from  those  two 
first  shots,  and,  strangely,  too,  for  I  have 
in  olden  times  used  up  fifty  of  the  same 
load  in  a  morning  without  noticing  any 
recoil.  The  white  powder  has  spoiled 
me,  I  guess/* 

"  Do  you  believe  it  is  as  good  as  it  is 
claimed  ? " 

"Assuredly;  it  is  the  powder.  In  its 
first  state  it  was  like  all  new  inven- 
tions— crude,  but  nowadays  no  man 
should  use  anything  else  in  the  powder 
line.  It  shoots  as  quick  and  strong  as  the 
old  stuff,  if  not  quicker  and  stronger. 
The  gun  does  not  recoil  as  with  black 
powder;  the  shooter's  chance  of  making 


The  Wild-Fowlers         21 

a  second  shot  is  enhanced  fifty  per  cent, 
by  the  absence  of  smoke  from  the  first 
discharge,  which,  in  the  old  load,  was  so 
dense  in  still  weather  as  to  completely 
hide  the  game.  Besides,  the  noise  made 
by  the  new  material  exploding  is  just 
about  half  what  the  old  brand  made. 
The  noise  and  recoil  of  olden  days  would 
give  me  a  headache  and  a  lame  shoulder 
now." 

"  And/' — asked  Peritus,  still  carefully 
looking  up  and  down  the  bay  for  any  fowl 
that  might  be  on  the  wing, — "  and  is  not 
the  new  powder  cleaner  to  the  gun  ? " 

"  Much,  both  in  the  barrels  and  around 
the  breeches.  One  day's  shooting  with 
black  powder  will  muss  a  gun  more  than 
ten  days'  work  with  nitro — down !  Mark 
south!  Coot;  let  'em  go;  don't  they 
look  like  brant  ?  They  're  coming  in ; 
we  '11  let  'em  'light  but  not  disturb  them ; 
their  flesh  is  rank,  though  at  certain  times 
of  the  year  their  breast,  cleanly  skinned, 
broiled,  and  served  with  onions,  is  as 


22         The  Wild-Fowlers 

good  as  any  wild  meat.  There  's  some 
broadbill  going  southwest,  Peritus ;  they 
'11  not  come  in,  but  here  's  our  coot,  four 
of  them.  See  them  set  their  wings  and 
lower  their  great  webbed  feet — what  an 
easy  shot !  That  's  the  time  to  take  all 
lighting  fowl,  boy,  just  at  the  moment 
they  flutter  down,  wings  set,  and  feet 
outstretched.  Any  boy  or  cheap-arm 
gunner  can  kill  a  lighting  duck  if  they  '11 
wait  for  that  particular  moment." 

"  I  believe  you,  Doctor;  I  once  saw  a 
man  kill  a  sheldrake  with  a  twenty-two 
rifle  ball,  firing  just  as  the  bird's  webs 
touched  the  decoy  hole,  and  the  shot  put 
the  ball  clean  through  the  fowl's  breast. 
Captain  Emeigh  of  Bellmore  saw  this,  too, 
and  he  will  also  tell  you  that  it  is  not  im- 
practicable to  shoot  duck  with  a  small 
rifle  if  the  shooter  will  wait  for  the  light- 
ing birds.  I  am — "  but  Peritus  finished 
not  his  sentence.  A  bit  of  spirited  pan- 
tomime by  his  companion  moved  him  to 
silence,  and  the  two  men  got  down  close 


The  Wild-Fowlers         23 

and  with  excited  eyes  watched  the  ap- 
proach of  a  bunch  of  ten  blackduck  that 
were  coming  head-on  fully  a  half-mile 
away. 

"  If  they  cross,  Peritus,  take  you  the 
last  bird,  as  they  will  pass  you  first  and 
come  to  me  last ;  that  is  the  rule,  boy.  If 
they  attempt  to  'light,  pick  the  spreading 
bird  on  your  side,  and  then,  as  they  go 
away,  take  any  bird  you  like.  Fire  not 
at  the  bunch — that  's  the  cockney's  prac- 
tice, and  it  always  fails.  Pick  your  birds 
in  all  cases." 

On  came  the  great  fowl  winging  but 
five  feet  above  the  water's  surface,  and, 
instead  of  coming  head-on  or  attempting 
to  cross,  the  entire  bunch  sailed  around 
to  the  south  a  hundred  yards  out  from 
the  decoys,  and,  coming  up  against  the 
mild  wind,  set  their  wings  and  dove  down 
into  the  very  centre  of  the  decoy  fleet, 
coming  from  the  Doctor's  side.  It  was, 
therefore,  Peritus's  first  shot,  and  he  took 
it  at  the  leader  bird,  doubling  up  that 


24         The  Wild-Fowlers 

gamester  with  a  full  ounce  of  shot,  as  it 
seemed,  while  the  Doctor  pulled  at  a  pair 
that  were  lined  up  at  the  same  moment, 
and  both  collapsed  at  the  snap  of  his  gun. 
Both  men  then  gave  second  trigger  at 
separate  single  birds,  now  wildly  upon 
the  wing,  but  only  one  fowl  was  stopped, 
and  this  by  the  older  man's  shot. 

"  Four  in  five  shots,  boy.  And  black- 
duck  at  that !  What  think  you — are  we 
not  very  sober  or  very  lucky,  or  both  ? 
Enthuse,  boy,  enthuse!  Oh,  if  Doctor 
Corbin  and  Seth  Fielding  could  see 
this!" 

"  I  can't  hit  my  second  birds,"  replied 
Peritus,  plainly  annoyed  at  his  second 
miss  with  the  second  barrel. 

"  But  you  will  when  I  tell  you  the  trick, 
and  I  '11  do  so  now.  I  wanted  you  to  see 
the  mannerisms  of  the  blackduck  a  little 
more  than  was  afforded  by  the  first  of 
that  species  that  came  to  the  stool. 
Have  n't  you  observed  a  particular  trait 
in  the  blackduck's  leaving  the  decoys  ?" 


The  Wild-Fowlers     .    25 

"  No,  but  I  notice  that  I  shot  too  low 
in  each  case." 

"  Quite  so.  The  blackduck,  Peritus, 
is  the  woodcock  of  the  water.  Unlike 
other  ducks,  he  towers  when  he  leaves  the 
decoys — when  he  takes  wing  in  any  in- 
stance. Most  fowl  simply  get  away  in 
any  manner,  when  startled — they  scurry 
off  any  old  way  just  so  as  to  get  away  as 
fast  as  their  wings  will  take  them,  but  the 
blackduck  jumps  like  a  woodcock  when 
he  is  startled,  springs  at  times  twenty  feet 
in  the  air  with  one  flap  of  the  wings,  and 
if  you  do  not  appreciate  this  trait  you 
are  sure  to  miss  him  by  shooting  too 
low,  as  you  did  in  both  ca^es  here  to- 
day." 

The  two  men  thus  chatted  and  gave 
trigger  up  to  ten  o'clock,  when  the  Cap- 
tain poled  up  in  his  dingy,  ostensibly  to 
retrieve  the  game,  but  taking  good  care 
to  hint  to  his  two  charges  at  the  same 
time  that  lunch  hour  was  near  at  hand 
and  lunch  quite  ready — "ef  you  genelmen 


26         The  Wild-Fowlers 

be  a-willin'  teh  leave  off  gunnin*  fer  feed- 
in',  "  as  he  remarked  with  a  broad  grin 
and  an  elaborate  salutation  with  his 
brawny  left  arm.  The  Doctor  and  young 
Peritus  went  aboard,  and  for  over  two 
hours  the  three  men  ate,  drank,  smoked, 
talked,  laughed,  and  sang  in  that  peculiar 
spirit  of  good  nature  only  known  to 
sportsmen. 

Both  of  the  elder  men  related  experi- 
ences with  rod  and  gun,  to  the  extreme 
delight  of  their  young  companion,  and 
many  a  practical  bit  concerning  guns,  am- 
munition, wild  fowl,  and  natural  history 
in  general  was  brought  out  for  his  especial 
benefit.  Old  Grieb  told  how  the  black- 
duck  went  up  into  the  creeks  and  ponds 
to  feed  whenever  the  tide  made  low  at 
dark  or  very  early  in  the  morning;  how 
he  had  often  come  upon  a  great  flock  of 
them  in  the  ocean — "  outside/'  as  he 
termed  it — all  fast  asleep  in  the  middle  of 
the  day,  which,  "teh  those  es  hed  follered 
the  bay,"  as  he  put  it,  meant  that  the 


The  Wild-Fowlers         27 

water  in  the  bay  and  creeks  was  low  at 
dark  or  "  dreffel  airly  in  the  mornin'  " ; 
how  the  different  species  of  wild  fowl 
acted  in  the  bay  at  all  seasons  of  the 
year;  what  they  fed  on,  where  they  slept, 
and  how  they  were  taken  by  the  gunner, 
and  Doctor  Bradley  related  many  of  his 
experiences  both  afield  and  afloat,  so  that 
Peritus,  by  the  time  he  and  the  Doctor 
returned  to  the  blind,  felt  he  had  de- 
voured quite  his  share  of  mental  food  if 
the  Doctor  had  beaten  him  with  knife, 
fork,  and  goblet. 

"  Good-bye,  Peritus, "  said  Doctor 
Bradley,  at  the  end  of  the  day,  when  the 
two  had  reached  the  city.  "  You  're  a 
first-class  shooting  companion,  and  I  'm 
going  to  introduce  you,  some  day,  to 
Fielding  and  Corbin,  who  '11  give  you 
better  sport  than  I  am  capable  of." 

"  Good-bye,  Doctor.  I  '11  appreciate 
the  introduction  to  your  two  famous 
friends,  and  profit  greatly  by  their  so- 
ciety, but  I  won't  allow  that  they  '11  give 


28 


The  Wild-Fowlers 


me  a  better  day  than  this  has  been  with 
you,  old  friend.     Good-bye,  good-bye." 

*'  With  the  non-shooting  public,  every  man  who  can 
shoot  on  the  wing  is  a  sportsman  ;  the  man  who  can 
follow  the  track  of  a  quail  in  the  cornfield  as  an  Indian 
can  track  a  deer  in  the  forest,  who  exterminates  a  bevy 
of  birds  at  a  single  shot,  is  a  sportsman  ;  he  who 
slaughters  hundreds  of  fowl  in  and  out  of  season  is 
also  a  sportsman,  and,  knowing  no  difference  between 
these  and  their  betters  of  the  gun,  the  indiscriminat- 
ing  public  classes  them  all  alike." — GLOAN. 


II 

The  Sportsman's  Lair 


II 

The  Sportsman's  Lair 

All  the  sports  of  the  field  are  delightful,  I  own, 

But  none  with  shooting  compare  ; 
'T  is  a  joy  that  entices  the  king  from  his  throne, 

'T  is  a  joy  the  wisest  may  share." 

:ETH  FIELDING  had 

•£     never  shot  from  a  bat- 

*«s==wr-:' 

tery,  but  he  had  read 
Frank  Forester's  and 
Robert  B.  Roosevelt's  condem- 
nation of  the  practice,  so  it  was  natural  for 
him  to  refuse  at  first  to  accompany  his 
two  friends,  Doctor  Bradley  and  Doctor 
Corbin,  who  proposed  a  trip  for  brant 
and  broadbill. 

"  Pray  tell  me,"  said  Doctor  Bradley, 
"  how  you  know  so  much  about  the  mat- 
ter when  you  acknowledge  that  you  have 
never  had  any  experience  in  the  sink-box. 
How  do  you  know  whether  it  is  cruel, 
31 


32         The  Wild-Fowlers 

destructive,  and  altogether  unsportsman- 
like, or  'first-best  sport/  as  Tom  Draw 
would  say  ?  Come,  now,  shut  that  desk 
down,  get  your  traps  together,  and  meet 
Doctor  Corbin  and  me  at  luncheon  at  the 
Studio  to-morrow/' 

"  No,  sir/'  responded  Seth,  closing  his 
lips  firmly;  "  I  won't  do  it,  and  further- 
more, I  'm  going  to  do  all  I  can  to  put 
down  the  murderous  pursuit.  Battery 
shooting  is  the  worst  sort  of  game 
slaughter;  the  birds  that  are  not  killed 
outright  by  the  shooters  are  made  crip- 
ples or  frightened  away  for  good.  I  say 
for  good,  meaning  forever,  because  the 
slaughter  is  done  on  the  fowls'  actual 
feeding-grounds,  on  open  water,  too,  and 
no  duck  is  going  to  stay  very  long  where 
it  is  fired  upon  by  an  enemy  who  can  con- 
ceal himself  without  any  apparent  shelter. 
Besides,  you  're  going  shooting  in  the 
springtime,  when  the  birds  are  on  their 
way  to  the  breeding-places,  as  you  well 
know,  and  I  don't  believe  in  this  extrava- 


The  Wild-Fowlers         33 

gantly  destructive  practice.  I  won't  go. 
Have  a  smoke  ? "  And  Seth  handed  his 
friend  a  Key  West  favorite  and  lighted 
one  himself. 

44  All  you  say  may  be  true,  Seth," 
quoth  the  Doctor,  "  but  you  'd  best  make 
sure  of  it.  You  've  never  been  in  a  bat- 
tery. Here  's  your  chance.  The  birds 
are  in  the  bay,  the  legal  season  is  still  on. 
Doctor  and  I  have  engaged  Captain 
Grieb  of  Amityville  for  two  days,  and 
the  train  goes  at  three  o'clock  to-morrow. 
We  '11  lunch  early,  say  twelve  o'clock. 
The  trip  '11  do  you  good,  and  I  promised 
the  Doctor  you  'd  join  us.  Think  of  two 
days  and  two  nights  on  that  grand  old 
bay,  boy!  Think  of  it!  We  '11  make 
this  the  last  spring  trip.  We  '11  go  out 
there  especially  to  investigate  matters, 
get  practical  points  on  the  details  you 
speak  of;  then,  if  you  're  right,  the  Doc- 
tor and  I  will  give  way  to  you.  But, 
since  you  're  talking  without  actual 
knowledge  you  must  listen  to  us.  The 

3 


34         The  Wild-Fowlers 

fact  is,  Seth,  we,  too,  are  against  spring 
shooting,  and  we  want  you  to  post  up  a 
bit  on  it  and  then  join  us  in  a  stampede 
against  the  practice.  The  law  is  wrong 
in  permitting  duck  shooting  after  the  au- 
tumn and  midwinter  seasons.  As  for  bat- 
tery shooting,  you  may  be  right  about  its 
being  too  destructive,  but  the  Doctor  and 
I  have  not  been  in  the  sink-box  often 
enough  to  either  deny  or  affirm  this  state- 
ment. You  join  us  in  this  trip,  and  we  '11 
abide  by  your  decision.  We  need  n't 
kill  a  greedy  mess — just  a  couple  or  two, 
and  have  a  good  general  outing.  I  give 
you  my  word  this  will  be  the  farewell 
spring  trip;  no  shooting  beyond  that 
which  the  autumn  and  midwinter  seasons 
allow  after  this,  and  never  again  at  any 
time  in  the  battery,  if  you  decide  against 
it — after  you  've  judged  the  practice  from 
actual  experience." 

"  Well,  this  is  very  flattering  to  me, 
Doctor,  and  I  'm ' 

"  Think  of  the  time  we  '11  have  in  that 


The  Wild-Fowlers         35 

fine  old  bay,  boy!  The  Captain  's  a 
great  cook  and  a  great  character — equal 
to  anything  Dickens  ever  pictured — and 
you  must  see  him.  His  sloop  is  a  com- 
fortable old-timer  of  forty  feet,  and  we  '11 
live  sumptuously — plenty  of  oysters  right 
from  their  beds,  clams  galore,  and  fried 
flounder  and  eel,  broiled  fluke,  roast 
duck,  and,  and — well,  lots  of  other  good 
things,  including  our  Key  Wests  and  the 
Doctor's  usual  supply  of  moist  material. 
You  need  n't  actually  shoot  from  the  bat- 
tery. The  Captain  '11  rig  you  out  on  a 
point  for  blackduck  and  sprigtail,  and 
you  '11  have  great  sport.  Besides,  you  '11 
be  able  to  verify  all  that  your  friend  For- 
ester says  against  the  battery.  Say, 
Seth,"  continued  the  Doctor  in  a  humor- 
ous whisper,  "  they  tell  me  Forester  was 
never  in  a  battery — ha !  ha !  you  writing 
cusses  cry  down  pursuits  you  know  no- 
thing about — you  go  off  half  cocked. 
Somebody  who  can't  afford  a  sloop  and 
battery,  and  who  's  down  on  somebody 


36         The  Wild-Fowlers 

who  can,  tells  you  battery  shooting  is 
slaughter,  and  you  cry  it  down  in  print 
without  further  investigation.  I  'm  sur- 
prised that  some  persons  who  have  en- 
emies in  yachts  and  carriages  don't  say 
boating  and  driving  are  cruel  pastimes — 
in  fact,  they  do  say  it — the  anarchists  say 
it." 

The  Doctor  here  laughed  louder  than 
ever,  and,  slapping  Seth  soundly  on  the 
shoulder,  continued: 

"  Now,  don't  back  out,  old  boy.  Be 
at  the  Studio  at  twelve  sharp.  I  '11  have 
the  wagon  there  at  one-thirty,  and  Wil- 
liam '11  be  on  hand  to  look  after  the 
traps." 

"  Well,  I  could  n't  possibly  back  out, 
Doctor,"  said  Seth,  "  as  matters  stand, 
because  I  have  n't  agreed  to  go.  But  I 
think  I  will  go.  Your  laugh  about  the 
report  that  Forester  never  shot  from  a 
battery  and  the  suggestion  that  I  shoot 
blackduck  from  a  point  have  altered  my 
mind  on  the  subject.  Yes,  I  '11  go.  I  '11 


The  Wild-Fowlers         37 

satisfy  myself  that  Forester  was  right  in 
condemning  the  pursuit,  whether  he  in- 
dulged in  it  personally  or  not,  and  I  '11 
wager  with  you  now  that  I  shall  not 
change  my  views  after  I  have  been  on  the 
ground.  One  need  not  become  a  burglar 
himself  in  order  to  condemn  thievery.  I 
don't  remember  whether  Forester  did  any 
battery  shooting  or  not,  but  I  do  know 
he  strongly  argued  against  it,  and  that 
Roosevelt  was  an  old  bayman,  and  he  cer- 
tainly knew  what  he  was  talking  about. 
He,  more  than  any  one  else,  disfavors  the 
practice,  and  his  reasons  are  sound. 
Here  's  his  book.  Listen  to  this  para- 
graph," and  Seth  reached  for  the  volume, 
which  was  quickly  lifted  from  a  floor- 
shelf  that  contained  a  full  two  hundred 
works  on  field  sporting,  angling,  and  nat- 
ural history.  Then,  as  the  Doctor  re- 
lighted his  cigar  and  stretched  himself  out 
comfortably  over  three  quarters  of  the 
immense  lounge  he  always  selected  when 
in  Seth's  den,  he  read  as  follows : 


38         The  Wild-Fowlers 

"  At  present  we  suffer  more  from  im- 
proper modes  of  pursuit  than  from  abso- 
lute scarcity  of  game.  The  habit  of  using 
'  batteries  '  in  the  South  Bay  of  Long 
Island,  and  locating  them  on  the  feeding- 
or  sanding-grounds,  has  resulted  in  fright- 
ening away  the  birds.  Where,  a  few 
years  ago,  ten  ducks  stopped  in  the  water 
adjoining  that  famous  sand-pit,  there  can 
hardly  be  found  one  at  present.  After 
being  disturbed  on  their  feeding-grounds 
by  murderous  discharges  from  an  unseen 
foe  in  their  midst,  they  become  alarmed 
and  leave  the  locality  altogether.  To  be 
sure,  for  a  year  or  so,  the  number  killed 
from  that  ingenious  mode  of  ambush  will 
be  enormous ;  but  it  is  at  a  terrible  sacri- 
fice of  the  supply,  and  will  eventuate  in 
ruin  to  those  engaged  in  it.  At  present 
on  Long  Island  it  is  hardly  possible  to 
obtain  a  decent  day's  sport  without  using 
a  *  battery* ;  but  in  the  South,  along  the 
Chesapeake  and  Potomac,  where  the  use 
of  these  inventions  has  never  been  al- 


The  Wild-Fowlers         39 

lowed,  the  ducks  are  as  abundant  as 
ever." 

"  Now  stop  a  minute,  Seth,"  said  the 
Doctor,  shaking  his  cigar  at  his  friend 
much  as  he  would  shake  his  forefinger. 
"  He  says  that  at  present  it  is  hardly  pos- 
sible to  obtain  a  decent  day's  sport.  Well, 
I  say  he  's  off  on  that  ground — the  ducks 
are  as  plentiful  in  the  Great  South  Bay 
as  they  ever  were.  If  we  were  greedy  we 
could  easily  bag  seventy-five  broadbill,  a 
half-dozen  redhead,  three  or  four  dozen 
brant,  and  any  number  of  coot  and  shel- 
drake in  a  single  morning,  and  do  this 
every  day  throughout  the  early  spring, 
the  autumn,  and  winter.  Furthermore, 
this  sort  of  shooting  has  been  possible  in 
the  Great  South  Bay  for  hundreds  of 
years,  and  it  will  continue  to  afford  plenty 
of  game  long  after  we  old  fellows  cease  to 
give  trigger/' 

"But,  Doctor,  Roosevelt  adds  a  few 
words  you  have  failed  to  repeat — '  hardly 
possible  to  obtain  a  decent  day's  sport 


40         The  Wild-Fowlers 

without  using  a  battery';  don't  forget 
that  part  of  it,  Doctor.  And  that  means 
a  great  deal.  There  was  a  time — and  it 
was  when  the  ducks  and  geese  in  the 
Great  South  Bay  were  not  much  more 
plentiful  than  they  are  nowadays — that 
one  could  have  fine  play  with  several 
species  of  ducks  and  Canada  geese  and 
brant  from  any  point  or  tiny  island  in 
that  grand  old  lagoon,  but  your  battery 
business  has  ruined  all  this.  Years  ago 
the  bay  was  alive  with  canvasback,  but 
you  seldom  see  them  now.  Ducks  shot 
at  from  a  point  or  island  over  decoys  will 
go  to  other  points  and  islands  or  the  open 
water,  but  when  shot  at  from  a  battery 
on  their  feeding-beds  in  open  water, 
where  they  cannot  understand  how  a  man 
can  conceal  himself,  they  are  frightened 
away  from  the  locality  altogether,  as 
Roosevelt  truthfully  says.  I  will  admit 
that  the  broadbill,  brant,  sheldrake,  and 
scoter — "  coot"  as  the  baymen  call  it — 
are  as  plentiful  in  the  Great  South  Bay 


The  Wild-Fowlers         41 

to-day  as  they  were  before  the  battery 
was  in  use,  but  this  is  on  account  of  the 
constant  visits  of  new  birds,  families  that 
have  probably  never  visited  the  water  be- 
fore. And  these  birds  once  treated  to 
the  frightful  spectacle  of  two  gunners 
bobbing  out  of  the  very  bay  itself  and 
firing  into  their  midst  is  sufficient  to  keep 
them  from  visiting  it  again.  The  point 
shooting,"  continued  Seth,  more  excit- 
edly, "in  the  upper  waters  of  the  Great 
South  Bay,  where  batteries  are  forbidden, 
is  fine  to-day,  but  it  is  only  a  quarter  of 
what  it  would  be  if  batteries  were  abol- 
ished at  all  places.  And  they  will  be 
done  away  with  very  soon.  They  ruin 
the  sport  of  the  real  sportsman  and  are 
only  serviceable  to  a  lot  of  fat  fellows  like 
you  and  Doctor  Corbin,  who  are  too  lazy 
to  point-shoot,  and  to  the  baymen  who 
are  paid  to  rig  out  for  you.  Do  away 
with  this  slaughter  and  there  '11  be  sport 
and  game  for  all  of  us  and  for  our  boys 
in  years  to  come,  Your  keeping  up  the 


42         The  Wild-Fowlers 

cockney  practice  not  only  renders  short- 
lived sport  possible  to  a  few  greedy  indi- 
viduals, but  it  takes  away  sport  and  game 
from  the  general  sportsmen  of  the  day 
and  ruins  all  prospects  of  a  future  play  at 
wild  fowl  in  these  waters.  But,  as  I  say, 
I  '11  go  with  you  and  I  '11  enjoy  the  trip 
as  well  as  either  of  you,  but  it  '11  be  my 
first  and  last  experience  in  battery  shoot- 
ing, mark  me.  I  suppose  you  '11  wire 
Doctor  Corbin  ?  " 

"  I  have  done  so  already,"  said  Doctor 
Bradley;  "  he  '11  meet  us  to-morrow  in 
our  old  corner  in  the  Studio.  You  be  on 
hand  and  we  '11  give  you  a  battery  argu- 
ment together.  The  idea!  Us  fat  and 
lazy!  I  '11  tell  the  Doctor  what  you  've 
said,  you  mean  cuss,  and  don't  you  dare 
to  back  water.  And  now  good-bye,  old 
boy.  I  'm  off  for  down-town  to  get 
my  ten-gauge.  You  '11  shoot  that  little 
twelve  of  yours,  I  suppose  ?  Good-bye; 
see  you  to-morrow." 

And  the  old  Doctor  wabbled  out  of  the 


The  Wild-Fowlers         43 

apartment  on  a  little  trot  that  showed 
more  motion  than  speed,  while  Seth  be- 
gan to  busily  arrange  his  desk  to  do  as  his 
friend  had  requested — shut  it  down. 

A  merry  trio  these  three  men,  Brad- 
ley, Fielding,  and  Corbin — two  of  them 
medical  doctors,  Dr.  Bradley  in  New 
York  and  Dr.  Corbin  in  Brooklyn,  while 
Seth  engaged  in  literary  work  and  kept 
up  an  establishment  on  Broadway — his 
"  den  "  he  called  it — that  was  famous  as 
a  headquarters  for  the  shining  lights  of 
the  day  in  the  world  of  letters  and  sports- 
manship. 

Seth  was  supposed  to  do  his  writing 
and  sketching  in  the  den,  but  there 
seemed  never  to  be  anything  going  on 
there  day  or  night  except  a  constant  prat- 
tle about  guns,  and  dogs,  and  books,  and 
pictures,  and  horses  between  the  merriest 
sort  of  men,  of  all  ages  and  character; 
and  instead  of  resembling  an  author's  den, 
further  than  to  include  a  great  skylight 
and  innumerable  pictures,  rough  sketches, 


44         The  Wild-Fowlers 

and  books,  the  apartment — quite  at  the 
top  of  the  building — was  filled  to  its  very 
walls  with  the  very  oddest  collection  of 
guns,  bags  of  shot,  powder  cans,  snipe 
and  duck  decoys,  deer  and  bear  heads, 
game  panels  and  rugs,  fishing-rods,  shoot- 
ing-coats and  -caps,  and  the  hundred-and- 
one  other  devices  and  instruments  of  the 
field  sportsman.  Seth  sat  in  the  midst 
of  the  odd  outfit  as  Little  Nell's  grand- 
father sat  in  the  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  and 
to  judge  by  his  face  and  general  appear- 
ance one  would  not  be  long  in  coming  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  was  quite  at  home. 
Clothed  from  shoulder  to  knee  in  chest- 
nut-colored corduroy,  with  heavy  pigskin 
shoes  and  short  leather  leggings,  a  pair 
of  driving  gloves  just  peeping  out  of  his 
jacket  top  pocket,  and  a  rawhide  dog- 
leash  and  silver  whistle  hooked  to  the  flap 
of  a  lower  pocket,  he  looked  the  very  pic- 
ture of  a  chivalrous  fieldman. 

"  Get  ready,  Don/'  he  cried  to  a  lively 
red  setter  as  soon  as  he  had  closed   his 


The  Wild-Fowlers         45 

desk,  "  and  we  '11  be  off  home  to  tell  the 
folks  about  the  proposed  duck-shoot/' 
The  dog  was  up  and  bounding  all  about 
the  room  with  great  glee  as  he  observed 
his  gentle  master  stride  toward  the  whip- 
rack,  for  he  well  knew  this  meant  that  he 
was  to  have  both  a  romp  and  a  ride. 

"  But  you  're  not  to  go  on  the  shoot- 
ing trip,  sir ;  dogs  are  not  used  in  battery 
shooting,  and  if  they  were  I  'd  not  break 
you  to  the  despicable  practice.  No,  sir, 
and  I  '11  be  very  careful  not  to  take  to  it 
myself  if  all  Forester  and  Roosevelt  say 
about  the  pursuit  is  true.  Come  along, 
old  chap,  away  we  go !  " 

With  these  last  few  words,  expressed 
in  a  high  spirit  of  good  feeling,  and  with 
a  crack  of  the  graceful  road-whip  over  the 
head  of  his  canine  companion,  who  well 
knew  the  action  was  one  of  play,  the  two 
went  merrily  from  the  building,  Seth  call- 
ing loudly  to  Sam,  the  colored  porter,  to 
be  careful  about  locking  up  safely  before 
leaving. 


46         The  Wild-Fowlers 

Around  the  corner  in  a  side  street  Seth 
supported  a  shelter  stall  and  wagon  space, 
and  thither  he  and  the  dog  proceeded. 

'  My  horse!  my  horse!"  cried  Seth, 
looking  into  the  stable  office  door,  as  Don 
went  familiarly  into  the  wagonway  and 
plunged  both  forefeet  into  the  water  tub 
and  drank  freely;  "  my  horse,  but  not  a 
kingdom  for  it.  Hello,  Gray,"  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  one  of  the  firm;  "still 
sitting  'round  talking  horse,  eh  ?  They 
say  shoemakers  are  out  at  the  toes  and 
tailors  out  at  the  knees,  and  I  guess 
stablemen  are  just  as  bad,  because 
they  're  never  out  any  place  or  any  time. 
I  wish  I  had  the  time  you  stable  fellows 
have — I  'd  wear  out  wagons  and  burn 
powder  to  ten  times  the  extent  I  do  now. 
Say,  do  you  ever  drive  or  ride  ?  I  never 
knew  a  liveryman  to  do  anything  but  sit 
around  his  office;  he  's  worse  than  a 
cobbler. ' ' 

"And  what  do  you  shooters  do  besides 
smoke  and  eat  and  tell  lies?"  fairly 


The  Wild-Fowlers         47 

yelled  the  immaculate  Gray,  firmly  clasp- 
ing both  arms  of  his  great  chair,  as  a  half- 
dozen  of  his  brother  horsemen,  all  friends 
of  Seth,  too,  roared  out  with  laughter. 

"  What  else  but  eat  and  tell  lies  ?  "  re- 
peated George  Wilson,  one  of  the  group. 
"  Why,  they  drink!  And  their  best  man, 
Henry  William  Herbert  ("  Frank  For- 
ester"),  says  more  about  drinks  and 
drinking  in  his  books  than  guns  and 
gunning." 

'  Yes,"  put  in  Tom  Hefferman,  "  and 
it  's  a  wonder  you  shooters  would  n't 
spend  a  little  time  sitting  down  quietly 
like  we  do  and  calmly  chatting  to  each 
other,  affording  innocent  amusement  and 
instruction/' 

"  Instruction!  O  Lord!  Hear  him — 
instruction!  Instruction  in  the  art  of 
*  laying  off/  That  's  all  you  fellows  can 
instruct  any  one  about.  As  for  eating 
and  drinking,  we  shooters  may  gorman- 
dize a  little  more  than  you  office  fellows, 
but  we  don't  show  it.  You  look  like  a 


48         The  Wild-Fowlers 

lot  of  hippopotami,  and  it  's  very  fortu- 
nate you  don't  have  to  do  your  '  instruct- 
ing' on  your  feet,  or  you  'd  never  get 
through  one  lesson.  We  may  eat  and 
drink  a  lot,  but  we  can  walk,  and  we 
don't  each  of  us  weigh  a  ton  and  feel  as 
though  we  weighed  ten." 

"  Say,  hold  on  there,  Whipcase," 
scowled  Tom  Songster.  '  What  about 
your  beautiful  Doctor  Bradley  and  Doc- 
tor Corbin  ?  They  're  as  fat  as  Tom 
Draw." 

"  Well,  since  you  mention  those  two 
little  boys  and  old  Tom  Draw  I  'm  done; 
besides,  my  dear  boy,  I  would  n't  antag- 
onize you,  for  you  do  ride  and  drive  once 
in  a  while,  and  have  wind  enough  to 
stand  your  ground ;  but  your  half-ossified 
friends  there,"  sneered  Seth  in  such  a 
natural  way  that  an  outsider  would  never 
have  believed  him  in  jest,  "  are  helpless, 
and  I  'm  not  afraid  of  them.  They 
could  n't  run  across  the  room  without 
running  out  of  breath." 


The  Wild-Fowlers         49 

"  Give  it  to  him,  Tom!  We  '11  stand 
by  you  —  ha!  ha!  ha!*'  cried  the  half- 
dozen  good  fellows,  fairly  bubbling  over 
with  delight  at  Tom  Songster's  humorous 
mimic  anger. 

"  Yes,  Torn/'  said  Seth,  pointing  his 
whip  straight  in  Songster's  face  to  make 
sure  of  his  attention  to  every  word, 
"  they  '11  stand  by  you.  Yes,  they  '11 
stand  by  you;  they  will!  There  isn't 
one  of  the  fats  who  can  stand.  They 
might  sit  by  you,  but  they  'd  never 
stand." 

And  Seth  gently  lashed  everybody  in 
range  with  the  string  of  his  whip  and 
nimbly  bounded  through  the  saddle-room 
into  the  stable  proper,  and  was  soon  driv- 
ing past  the  office  door,  laughing  loudly 
and  flailing  his  whip  at  the  jolly  friends 
indoors.  Don  bounded  up  to  the  lips  of 
the  pony  and  never  seemed  more  sprightly 
in  his  life,  while  the  little  horse  plainly 
showed  a  liking  for  the  setter  equal  to 
that  of  the  master. 


50         The  Wild-Fowlers 

And  so  we  leave  our  gallant  gentleman 
for  the  day,  to  meet  him  the  following 
afternoon  with  his  two  field  companions 
at  the  Studio  chop-house. 


"  He  that  takes  no  holiday  hastens  a  long  rest." — 
C.  S.,  in  New  York  Evening  Telegram. 


Ill 


The  Quick  and  the  Dead 


Ill 

"  The  Quick  and  the  Dead  " 

"  Accuse  not  Nature,  she  hath  done  her  part. 
Do  thou  but  thine." 

Paradise  Lost. 

*'.  .  .  the  beadle  of  private  life  ;  the  beadle  of 
our  business  and  our  bosoms." — DICKENS,  Dombey 
and  Son. 

ERE  'S    the    great    sportsman 
moralist,   Doctor,  "   said 
Doctor  Bradley  to  Doc- 
tor Corbin,  as  Seth  Fielding 
r-  strolled  up  to  their  table  in  the 
cafe,  inquiring: 
44  Well,  what  's  before  us  ? " 
44  Hello,  Seth!"  cried  the  portly  Cor- 
bin as  he  arose  from  his  seat  with  great 
difficulty  and  yet  with  every  indication 
that  he  was  not  at  all  displeased  to  do  so. 
44  I  'm  right  glad  you  've  joined  us  " — 
putting  forth  both  of  his  great  hands — 
4<  and  now    I  'm    sure   we  '11    have   fine 
53 


54         The  Wild-Fowlers 

sport  on  this  trip,  birds  or  no  birds.  The 
Doctor  says  you  're  way  up  on  battery 
shooting.  I  'm  mighty  happy  't  is  so,  for 
by  my  true  word,  I  know  nothing  about 
it;  never  saw  a  battery,  but  it  must  afford 
grand  sport.  The  Doctor  says  it 's  real 
comfortable  and  a  sure  thing  for  ducks. 
Sit  down,  boy,  sit  down;  waiter!  " 

"Yes,  sir/' 

"  We  've  no  time  to  spare.  My  friend 
will  look  after  his  own  bottle ;  you  busy 
yourself  getting  some  bluepoints  for  him 
— a  plenty  dish — and  let  the  broiled  lob- 
ster and  the  green  chicory  for  Doctor 
Bradley  and  me  come  at  the  same  time. 
Hurry,  now." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  And,  waiter!"  called  Bradley,  "  tell 
Martin  to  send  out  to  the  wagon  two 
boxes  of  those  dark  Key  Wests  of  mine 
to  William.  He  's  to  stow  them  in  one 
of  the  leather  cases  or  in  the  half-filled 
black  rubber  bag  under  the  middle  seat; 
he  '11  know." 


The  Wild-Fowlers         55 

"  I  understand,  sir/' 

"  So,  Doctor,"  said  Seth  to  Bradley, 
punching  his  foe  of  yesterday  sharply  in 
his  left  side,  "  I  'm  the  great  sportsman 
moralist,  eh  ?  And  I  'm  way  up  on  bat- 
tery shooting,  you  old  dog?  He  tells 
you  this/' — turning  to  Corbin,  now  busily 
employed  in  pouring  a  mug  of  ale  into 
his  capacious  maw, — "  does  he,  old  man- 
atee ?  Well,  he  's  right;  I  am  well  up 
on  battery  shooting.  At  least  I  know 
more  about  it  than  he,  and,  like  yourself, 
I  Ve  never  seen  the  machine.  But  as 
neither  of  you  sweet  little  Lilliputians 
will  be  able  to  get  more  than  your  feet  in 
the  sink-box,  I  stand  a  good  show  of 
having  plenty  of  experience  on  my  initial 
trip.  Here  's  your  health,  nonetheless  "  ; 
and  Seth  put  away  a  goblet  of  claret  and 
sterilaris  as  the  waiter  brought  on  his 
oysters  and  ale. 

"  Never  been  there?"  cried  Corbin. 
"  Doctor,  you  lied  to  me!  Why,  Seth, 
he  's  been  sitting  here  a  full  hour,  telling 


56         The  Wild-Fowlers 

me  of  your  admiration  for  the  sport,  how 
you  described  its  grandeur,  and  of  your 
determination  to  laud  it  as  the  most 
chivalrous  of  sports  with  the  gun." 

"  I  never  told  him  anything  of  the 
sort,  Seth,"  declared  Bradley;  "  he  's 
made  up  every  word  he  says.  Don't  you 
let  him  play  you,  boy;  the  old  hound! — 
look  at  him  give  cry." 

'  I  would  n't  believe  either  of  you," 
responded  Seth.  "  It  's  just  as  Gray 
says  —  you  two  fellows  do  nothing  but 
eat  and  drink  and  tell  lies." 

"  Oh,  you  would  n't  believe  me,  you 
mean  cuss,"  responded  Bradley;  "  then 
how  do  you  like  this  ? — Doctor,  he  called 
you  a  fat,  lazy  pig  yesterday,  and  said 
he  'd  cut  your  company  if  it  were  n't  that 
you  were  too*  far  gone  in  the  matter  of 
age  and  avoirdupois  to  take  care  of  your- 
self." 

"  Well,  I  swan,  Seth,  if  that  be  true 
it  's  pretty  bad,  for  I  allus  liked  you.  I 
never  cussed  you  in  my  life  'cept  when 


The  Wild-Fowlers         57 

you  threw  the  shot  on  my  neck  and  Doc- 
tor here  fired  a  gun  off  at  the  same  time 
to  make  me  believe  I  was  killed  out- 
right; perhaps  't  ain't  true,  boy,  per- 
haps 't  ain't  true.  But  don't  let  me 
forget  what  that  Will  Gray  said  about 
us,"  continued  the  old  man,  making 
ready  to  do  away  with  his  share  of  the 
lobster  and  green  chicory;  "  that  Will 
Gray  talkin'  'bout  drinkin'  an'  lyin' — 
he  's  drinked  more  'n  all  o'  us,  an'  he  's 
tol'  more  lies  than  a  press  agent  ever 
dreamed  o'  tellin'.  Cuss  him!  I  'm 
half  a  mind  to  give  up  this  trip  to  tell 
him  what  I  think  of  him." 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Bradley,  "  I  can  pic- 
ture you  giving  up  a  shooting  trip! 
Seth,  that 's  the  best  thing  he  's  said  in  a 
week." 

And  so  for  a  full  two  hours  these  good 
spirits  chatted  away  in  burlesque  abuse 
of  themselves  and  their  friends,  every 
word  or  two  being  interrupted  by  hearty 
laughter  and  by  this  one  or  that  one  of 


58         The  Wild-Fowlers 

the  jolly  trio  reaching  to  deliver  a  pre- 
tended blow,  a  pull  of  the  coat,  or  some 
such  playful  manoeuvre.  Their  table 
was  the  liveliest  in  the  chop-house,  and 
nearly  everybody  on  the  floor,  it  seemed, 
knew  them,  talked  about  them,  and 
laughed  when  they  laughed.  Every 
now  and  again  some  friend  would  pass 
their  corner,  either  in  entering  the  place 
or  leaving  it,  and  then  there  would  be 
general  handshaking  and  much  loud  talk- 
ing, so  that  the  few  new  patrons — prob- 
ably visitors  to  the  city — scattered  about, 
who  did  not  know  them  personally, 
learned  of  them  from  those  who  enjoyed 
their  acquaintance  or  knew  of  them  by 
reputation. 

Few  men  could  hear  and  see  them 
without  feeling  a  desire  to  know  them,  or 
at  least  know  something  about  them, 
and  it  was  not  uncommon  to  see  waiters 
here  and  there  bending  over  their  tables, 
quietly  enlightening  their  inquisitive 
guests. 


The  Wild-Fowlers         59 

44  The  very  big  gentleman/'  one  was 
saying  to  a  couple  at  a  table  in  an  oppo- 
site corner,  44  that  's  Doctor  Corbin  of 
Brooklyn ;  the  other  stout  gentleman  is 
Doctor  Bradley,  and  the  young  man,  Mr. 
Seth  Fielding — all  very  old  customers, 
sir,  very  old,  sir.  Been  comin'  here  for 
years,  sir;  always  sit  in  that  same  corner, 
and  are  never  less  full  of  fun  than  you  see 
'em  at  this  minute,  sir.  Coin'  shootin' 
or  been  shootin',  don't  know  just  which; 
but  one  or  the  other,  sir,  most  certain." 

And  what  a  difference  in  the  ringing 
atmosphere  of  our  three  friends'  corner 
and  the  tables  of  the  more  quiet  guests — • 
not  many  of  the  latter  being  seen,  how- 
ever, for  the  patrons  of  the  Studio  as 
a  rule  are  men  of  good  cheer,  repre- 
senting as  they  do  all  classes  of  gentle 
sportsmen — the  yachtsman,  club  athlete, 
angler,  and  hunter.  Still,  as  in  all 
public  places,  the  penny-grabbing,  all- 
work-and-no-play  unfortunates,  with  their 
expression  of  disgust  at  all  things  jovial, 


6o         The  Wild-Fowlers 

are  there,  washing  down  their  mean  dishes 
with  a  lightning-like  speed  as  if  the  lun- 
cheon were  a  part  of  their  shop  duties, 
and  when  these  sour-faced  gentry  with 
their  ghostly  conversation  in  full  blast 
are  seated  anywhere  near  the  cheerful 
class  the  contrast  is  an  easy  study  for  the 
poorest  observer  of  character.  They  like 
to  call  themselves  men  of  real  service  in 
the  world, — these  never-take-a-holiday 
morbids, — and  look  upon  the  lover  of 
sport  and  good  nature  as  a  frivolous 
creature  who  lives  long  but  neglects  the 
true  duties  of  life.  But  how  few  of  the 
great  multitude  of  "  frivolous  "  beings  in 
this  world  entertain  the  same  view  as 
these  short-lived,  unenlightened  fools! 
How  few  of  us  but  know  that  they  are 
the  real  duty  neglecters!  We  are  here 
to  enjoy  the  world,  not  suffer  it.  Why 
live  a  little  while  in  misery,  in  preference 
to  a  long  life  of  merrymaking  ? 

And  let  us  pray  the  Lord  that  these 
good  cheer  and  true  health  abolitionists 


The  Wild-Fowlers         61 

will  be  always  in  the  minority.  In  what 
sense  are  their  scowls  and  growls  of  ser- 
vice ?  Who  is  benefited  by  their  every 
minute  and  the  every  minute  of  the  poor 
wretches  in  their  clutches  being  devoted 
to  drudgery  and  health-destroying  ?  No 
one  —  not  even  themselves,  nor  their 
weakling  offspring. 

And  the  jovial  man  of  kind  heart  who 
raises  up  the  very  victims  of  these  sour- 
mouths  and  restores  broken-hearted  men 
and  their  shattered  homes — he  is  but  a 
frivolous  thing!  If  so,  frivolousness  is 
godliness,  and  let  us  all  hope  our  children 
may  be  thus  afflicted. 

But  away  with  all  talk  of  the  low- 
spirited  !  Our  path  is  the  path  of  the 
cheerful;  so  let  us  return  to  our  merry 
trio,  the  fat  doctors  and  their  good  friend 
Seth.  

".  .  .  Accordingly  we  find  that  those  parts  of 
the  world  are  the  most  healthy  where  they  subsist  by 
the  chase  ;  and  that  men  lived  longest  when  their  lives 
were  employed  in  hunting,  and  when  they  had  little 
food  besides  what  they  caught." — W.  JONES. 


IV 
The  Merrick  Road 


64 


IV 


The  Merrick  Road 

*'.  .  .  the  pleasantest  converse  on  subjects  mani- 
fold, over  the  composing  cigar,  .  .  .  the  untutored 
jest,  the  untaught  laughter  .  .  .  the  buoyancy  of 
soul  caught  from  all  these  things." — HENRY  WILLIAM 
HERBERT. 


UNCHEON    over    and 

•-s^V. 

>  V  cigars  lighted,  the  three 
sportsmen  packed  into 
Bradley's  oaken  shooting- 
wagon,  and  William,  making 
sure  that  none  of  the  traps  were  missing, 
and  that  each  gentleman  had  no  pur- 
chases to  make  or  any  further  city  details 
to  attend  to,  sent  his  team  briskly  down 
Broadway  to  Thirty-fourth  Street  and 
down  this  last  thoroughfare  to  its  very 
end  to  the  ferry  plying  between  New 
York  and  Long  Island  City. 

"  Drive  right  on  the   boat,  William," 
65 


66         The  Wild-Fowlers 

shouted  Seth;  "  we  '11  not  disturb  these 
bags  and  boxes  on  both  sides  of  the  river. 
Besides," — turning  to  Corbin, — "  Doctor, 
we  'd  miss  the  train  if  that  fat  Bradley 
had  to  walk  ten  yards  with  his  gun- 
case." 

"  Good  idea,  Seth/'  responded  his 
friend,  "  and  while  you  look  to  William 
transferring  the  traps  to  the  smoking-car 
when  we  get  across,  I  '11  attend  to  the 
tickets;  Bradley,  what  's  the  name  of  the 
station  we  go  to — Ramsey  town  ?  " 

"  No,  Amity ville,"  answered  the  Doc- 
tor; "  get  three  excursion  tickets;  you  '11 
save  four  cents  on  the  lot — enough  to  buy 
yourself  one  of  those  Gowanus  cigars 
you  like  so  well." 

"  I  '11  buy  the  darned  tickets  one  way," 
said  the  puffing  Corbin;  "  I  would  n't 
bother  taking  care  of  the  blamed  return 
stubs  if  I  could  save  four  dollars." 

'  Why  not  drive  all  the  way,  Doctor  ?  " 
inquired  Seth  of  Bradley,  as  the  wagon 
and  its  great  load  rolled  on  to  the  ferry- 


The  Wild-Fowlers         67 

boat,  the  team  apparently  enjoying  the 
day  as  well  as  any  of  the  party;  "  it:  's 
only  thirty  miles  or  so,  and  the  roads  are 
the  best  in  the  world  in  any  sort  of 
weather/' 

"Good!"  cried  Corbin;  "  just  the 
thing/' 

"Good,  too,"  echoed  Bradley,  "if 
William  has  a  pair  of  lamps  and  more 
skins  for  our  knees  than  I  see  now. 
These  dust  wraps  are  as  thin  and  cold  as 
cheesecloth/' 

And  William  said  he  had  the  lamps, 
and  warmer  robes,  too,  and,  handing  the 
reins  to  Corbin,  he  stepped  down  and 
brought  out  from  under  the  front  seat  two 
great  buffalo  skins,  his  master's  huge  cape 
mackintosh,  and  a  well-worn  quarter-inch- 
thick  felt  ulster — "  This,  sir,"  said  he, 
holding  up  the  latter  garment  in  both 
arms,  "  the  madam  says  you  wanted  for 
the  coffin  boat." 

"  Coffin  boat! — what  the  devil  does  he 
mean  by  coffin  boat?"  queried  Corbin, 


68         The  Wild-Fowlers 

his  little  black  eyes  shining  from  his  fat 
head  like  two  jet  beads. 

"  The  battery,  of  course/'  answered 
Seth  for  his  friend;  "  that  's  the  best 
name  for  it  out  of  all  the  things  it  's 
called.  Its  other  appellations  are  sink- 
box,  coffin  box,  raft  boat,  surface  boat, 
marine  cellar,  and  ducking  machine." 

"Then  you  agree  to  our  driving?" 
asked  Bradley,  as  the  ferryboat  pushed  its 
way  into  the  dock. 

*  To  be  sure!"  echoed  Seth  and  Cor- 
bin,  and  William  was  hurried  back  into 
the  wagon. 

Away  the  spanking  team  went  the  sec- 
ond the  ferry  chains  were  down,  Bradley 
holding  the  ribbons,  while  his  faithful 
man  busied  himself  plying  the  skins  and 
great-coats  about  the  feet  and  hips  of 
Corbin,  whose  enormous  fat  seemed  no 
protection  from  the  chilling  wind  of  that 
fine  April  afternoon. 

The  road  through  Long  Island  City 
was  rough-cobbled,  and  the  surrounding 


The  Wild-Fowlers         69 

country,  though  still  showing  signs  of 
having  been  at  one  time  a  very  paradise 
in  its  natural  state,  was  uninviting.  Seth 
remarked  the  filth  on  all  sides  of  the  street 
they  drove  through,  and  compared  the 
dilapidated  condition  of  that  part  of  the 
town  to  many  parts  of  Jersey  City. 

How  strange,  he  thought,  that  the 
filthy  main  driveways  of  these  two  cities 
should  be  the  great  gateways  to  the  most 
beautiful  scenic  spots  the  country  boasts 
of — Long  Island,  with  its  Great  South 
Bay ;  Greenwood  Lake,  with  its  romantic 
Warwick  Woodlands,  and  the  Highlands 
of  the  Hudson,  walled  by  the  far-famed 
Palisades. 

'  Wait  till  we  get  out  o'  town  a  bit, 
Seth,"  pleaded  Corbin;  "  then  you  '11  see 
something  worth  looking  at.  This  part 
of  the  Island  is  pretty  bad,  I  '11  admit — 
the  dirtiest  spot  this  side  of  Little  Italy 
on  your  own  beloved  Manhattan  Isle." 

*  These  miserable  beings  clustered 
here  in  this  filth!  "  exclaimed  the  young 


70         The  Wild-Fowlers 

man.  '  They  should  be  separated  and 
forced  to  live  just  so  far  apart.  Their 
squalor  is  the  result  of  too  great  a  min- 
gling of  one  sort  of  being,  the  dirty  class. 
The  Board  of  Health  or  whatever  body 
has  the  say  should  scatter  them  like  so 
many,  so  many  —  well,  I  don't  know 
what;  no  species  of  insect,  reptile,  bird, 
or  beast,  is  sufficiently  unclean  to  be  men- 
tioned in  comparison.  They  live  worse 
than  pigs  in  captivity.  What  a  lot  hu- 
manity could  learn  in  the  matter  of  clean- 
liness and  general  comfort  from  even  the 
poorest  specimens  of  the  game  we  sports- 
men kill !  And  are  these  disease-spread- 
ing bipeds  the  superiors  of  our  beautiful 
deer  family,  our  cleanly  feathered  tribe, 
or  my  setter  and  my  little  cob  ? — not 
much!  Individuals  of  mankind  may  be 
superior  to  their  brothers,  the  so-called 
lower  animals,  but  the  race — never!  " 

"  They  're  too  poor  to  keep  clean/' 
ventured  Corbin. 

"  No,  it  is  n't  poverty  that  makes  them 


The  Wild-Fowlers         71 

filthy, "  replied  Fielding.  "The  lazy  and 
filthy  man  always  cries  poverty  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  his  dirt  and  indolence.  Poverty 
and  filth  need  n't  go  hand  in  hand  any 
more  than  riches  and  rottenness  need 
unite.  The  laggard's  poverty  excuse  for 
his  foulness  is  an  insult  to  everybody  who 
can't  brag  of  wealth.  Are  all  poor  per- 
sons dirty  ?  No,  sir,  I  won't  stand  for 
that.  The  poor  as  a  class  are  just  as 
cleanly  as  the  rich.  These  whelps  here- 
about are  just  plain,  downright  dirty,  lazy 
bipeds,  that  's  all,  and  they  should  be 
scattered  —  not  allowed  to  fester  in  a 
mass." 

"Well,  don't  disturb  them,  pray/' 
quoth  Bradley;  "it  is  better  to  have  a 
lot  of  rattlesnakes  in  one  quarter  than 
scattered  all  over  the  globe.  You 
would  n't  like  to  see  these  lepers  wading 
our  clear  trout  brooks  or  running  all  over 
our  beautiful  quail  ground  and  snipe 
meadows,  would  you  ?  Corbin,"  contin- 
ued the  Doctor,  "  will  you  have  a  drop  of 


72         The  Wild-Fowlers 

Canadian  Club  ?  You  look  cold.  Wil- 
liam, pull  the  cork,  and  Seth  and  I  '11 
take  a  little  taste  too.  This  wind  is 
freshening  considerably.  It  '11  be  quite 
sharp  in  the  battery  at  daybreak.  Say, 
boys,"  here  bowing  a  little  acknowledg- 
ment to  Seth  for  the  glass  handed  him, 
"  which  of  us  go  in  first  ?  Do  you  wish 
to  get  up  at  three  o'clock,  Doctor,  and 
lie  in  the  box  with  Seth  for  the  morning 
shooting,  or  shall  I ;  or  shall  we  both  take 
the  first  hours  and  leave  Fielding  aboard 
the  sloop  to  talk  the  Captain  daft  ?  What 
say  you  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  arrange  it  between  yourselves/' 
responded  Seth;  "  I  care  little  about  it. 
I  'm  merely  going  to  step  in  the  thing  for 
a  minute  or  two  just  for  the  experience. 
I  want  some  point  shooting  at  blackduck, 
the  king  of  wild  fowl.  The  Captain  can 
put  you  two  light  weights  in  the  coffin  as 
early  as  he  wishes,  then  get  me  to  the 
bogs.  If  you  two  get  in  the  battery  to- 
gether, the  trays  won't  need  any  iron- 


The  Wild-Fowlers         73 

weight  decoys.  The  box  '11  sink  all  right 
without  any  iron.  You  and  Corbin  would 
look  well  on  a  red  tandem  bicycle,  Doc- 
tor; why  don't  you  buy  one?  That 
tricycle  used  by  Professor  George  Lock- 
hart's  elephant  Boney  would  be  just  the 
trap,  if  it  were  bolted  and  braced  a  bit 
extra."  And  here  Seth  and  Bradley  got 
into  such  a  scuffling  that  more  than  once 
one  or  the  other  must  have  fallen  out  of 
the  seat  had  Corbin  or  William  not  laid  a 
hand  on  this  or  the  other  one's  shoulder 
as  a  sort  of  support. 

On  rolled  the  merry  vehicle  at  a  first- 
rate  speed,  the  Doctor's  bay  team  gaiting 
it  fresher  at  every  step  as  it  seemed,  until 
the  much-despised  city  district  had  been 
left  far  behind  and  a  wide  rural  view  lay 
on  all  sides  and  as  far  ahead  as  the  .eye 
could  see. 

The  pretty  towns  of  Richmond  Hill, 
Jamaica,  Springfield,  Rosedale,  Valley 
Stream,  Lynbrook,  Millburn,  and  Free- 
port  were  all  journeyed  through  in  their 


74         The  Wild-Fowlers 

order,  and  many  were  the  expressions  of 
admiration  that  escaped  from  the  allevi- 
ated Seth  as  he  espied  the  various  pleas- 
ing sights  along  the  route. 

"  Charming!"  he  cried,  indicating  the 
beautiful  natural  panorama  by  a  sweep  of 
his  arm.  "  So  clean,  quiet,  natural,  and 
generally  inviting.  My  God !  what  a 
difference  in  this  and  the  filth  of  low-lived 
civilization  !  Strange  those  wretches  who 
live  in  hovels  do  not  seek  these  rural  re- 
treats; strange,  very  strange — to  me,  at 
least/' 

"  I  knew  you  'd  like  it,  Seth,  so  I 
drove  the  longest  way/'  said  Bradley. 
"  We  'd  have  gained  a  half-hour  by  an- 
other course,  but  the  road  would  have 
been  no  better  and  the  scenery  less  at- 
tractive. See  that  pond  there, — Doctor, 
do  you  see  it  ? — a  natural  reservoir. 
There  are  a  hundred  on  the  Island  just 
like  it.  That  's  the  drinking-water  for  the 
people  of  Brooklyn,  and  it  's  fine,  but  the 
pipes  and  tanks  nearer  the  city  are  so  bad 


The  Wild-Fowlers         75 

that  the  water  is  rendered  unfit  to  drink 
by  the  time  it  reaches  the  crowded  dis- 
tricts. These  ponds  are  n't  like  the 
made-to-order  tanks  we  have  in  Central 
Park  on  Manhattan  Island.  These  little 
lakes  are  as  nature  made  them,  and  they 
are  as  clean  as  they  are  clear.  No  malaria 
or  fever  emanates  from  these  beautiful 
waters.  If  the  disease  germ  reaches  the 
drinking-cups  of  the  city,  it  comes  from 
the  rotten  city  pipes  or  the  filthy  town 
reservoirs  —  never  from  these  properly 
cared-for  waters/' 

"They  look  fine/'  said  Seth;  "  as  if 
the  men  who  cared  for  them  were  honest 
and  practical — not  merely  favored  poli- 
ticians, given  positions  whether  their 
ability  made  'em  fit  or  unfit  for  the  work. 
The  condition  of  this  drinking-water  is 
certainly  commendable,"  he  continued, 
"  and  so  is  the  drinking-water  of  New 
York  in  general.  As  you  say,  Doctor, 
any  disease  caused  by  this  particular  sub- 
stance comes  from  the  foul  condition  of 


76         The  Wild-Fowlers 

old  city  pipes  and  reservoirs,  but  there 
are  parts  of  this  country  where  nature  is 
imposed  upon  by  the  employment  of  im- 
practical men  to  build  and  conduct  the 
water  contrivances — favored  but  indiffer- 
ent and  wholly  ignorant  politicians.  Na- 
ture is  always  blamed  for  the  errors  of 
stupid  man.  Now,  I  '11  wager  I  could 
produce  half  a  hundred  natives  in  any 
complained-of  settlement  who  '11  make 
affidavit  that  they  never  knew  what  ma- 
laria or  fever  of  any  sort  were  before 
the  politically  conducted  water-towers, 
and  waterways,  and  water-sluices,  and 
waterpipes,  and  water-mains,  and  water 
what-nots  were  laid  out  and  built  up. 
Ignorant  man  stagnates  a  spring  pond  or 
dams  a  tide-water,  creating  foul  gases  and 
unnatural  quantities  of  constantly  rotting 
vegetation,  and  then,  then — he  damns 
Nature  for  the  ill-health  that  ensues  from 
his  own  impracticable  work.  Nature  'd 
be  all  right,  with  lots  of  odds  to  spare,  if 
man  'd  be  compelled  to  work  with  his 


The  Wild-Fowlers          77 

head  as  well  as  with  his  hands.  The  great 
trouble  with  this  world  is  in  the  army  of 
rogues  and  blockheads  it  supports.  Half 
the  men  who  are  put  to  work  in  a  collar- 
button  factory  don't  know  what  the  col- 
lar buttons  are  used  for,  and  those  of  this 
half  who  are  not  too  stupid  to  see  the 
advantage  in  learning  are  too  lazy  to 
learn/' 

"That  's  right,  Seth,"  fairly  yelled 
Bradley,  "  and  the  men  who  make  gun- 
cases  don't  know  what  they  're  used  for; 
if  they  did,  they  'd  put  the  coarse,  wax- 
end  sewing  of  the  handles  where  the 
raised-seam  stitching  would  n't  nearly  cut 
the  hand  off  of  you  when  you  carry  them. 
As  for  drinking-water,"  continued  the 
Doctor,  "  we  '11  have  no  disease  come 
from  it  at  all  in  a  few  years,  Seth,  if  what 
your  friend  Haerther  claims  is  true.  He 
says  a  Michigander  has  invented  and 
patented  and  fully  demonstrated  as  prac- 
tical a  machine  that  can  turn  any  sort  of 
liquid,  from  that  of  the  ditch  to  the  salty 


78         The  Wild-Fowlers 

contents  of  the  ocean,  into  sparkling  pure 
water;  and  the  same  machine,  he  says, 
can  make  any  particular  sort  of  water,  all 
the  way  from  common  seltzer  or  vichy  to 
apollinaris.  The  inventor  claims  there  is 
at  present  no  absolutely  pure  water  in  the 
world  save  new  rain-water  fresh  from  the 
clouds  and  that  produced  by  his  appara- 
tus ;  that  most  of  the  high-priced  bottled 
waters  are  more  impure  than  any  common 
city  drinking-water;  that  none  of  them 
can  stand  any  length  of  time  without  rot- 
ting, while  the  new  product  is  as  good  at 
the  end  of  twenty  years  as  the  day  it  's 
made." 

"  What  makes  it  so  pure  and  everlast- 
ing ?"  asked  Corbin. 

"  Why,  as  I  understand  it,  the  appa- 
ratus not  only  absolutely  purifies  the 
liquid,  but  also  the  air  and  the  vessel 
used  to  hold  the  material.  The  machine, 
I  am  told,  will  remove  the  air  from  im- 
pure water,  cleanse  it,  and  then  force  it 
back  in  the  water,  which  has  also  been 


The  Wild-Fowlers         79 

purified.  The  water  question  is  the  most 
serious  of  the  present  day.  Impure  water 
is  killing  thousands  of  people  every  hour. 
Nine  cases  of  illness  out  of  every  ten  are 
caused  by  disease  -  germed  drinking- 
water.  ' ' 

"  I  never  suffered  from  it,"  said 
Corbin. 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  his  brother 
physician;  "  you  never  drank  any,  but, 
for  a  man  who  does  drink  common  water 
to  say  he  never  suffered  from  it  is  about 
like  saying  you  know  of  a  man  who  went 
to  war  and  was  n't  shot.  There  are 
others.  Consuming  promiscuous  drink- 
ing-water is  quite  as  dangerous  as  going 
to  war.  Nearly  every  case — I  might  say 
every  case — of  typhoid  fever  comes  from 
drinking  impure  water,  and  there  are 
typhoid  victims  all  over  the  world,  and 
many,  very  many,  right  here  in  New 
York.  Seth's  friend  Haerther  says  there 
are  fully  forty  thousand  fatal  cases  yearly 
in  the  United  States.  Pure  water  and  the 


8o         The  Wild-Fowlers 

protection  of  our  fast-decreasing  game 
supply  are  my  hobbies/' 

"  Well,  you  're  all  right  on  the  water 
question,  though  a  little  shy  on  water 
drinking,"  remarked  Seth,  "  and  as  for 
protecting  game  the  only  proper  way  is 
to  stop  the  sale  of  it.  With  no  market 
for  birds,  deer,  and  fish,  the  man  who 
slaughters  in  and  out  of  season  would 
soon  give  up  the  practice." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Corbin. 

' '  So  do  I,"  quoth  Bradley. 

"  The  market  shooter  is  the  culprit," 
continued  Seth;  "  no  doubt  about  it. 
The  pot  hunter,  the  boy  gunner,  and  the 
summer-vacation  shooter  are  all  slaugh- 
terers, for  they  kill  at  all  seasons  regard- 
less of  game  laws,  and  the  sportsman 
takes  a  lot  of  game  too;  but  none  of 
these  individuals  would  injure  the  natural 
supply  if  the  professional  fowler  were  put 
down.  He  shoots  wild  fowl  in  the  night, 
when  the  birds  are  bunched  in  sleep  on 
the  water  with  their  heads  under  their 


The  Wild-Fowlers         81 

wings;  he  uses  a  gun  that  is  little  less 
than  a  small  cannon;  he  pots  quail  in 
flocks  on  the  ground ;  he  bags  fledgling 
grouse  that  can  hardly  fly ;  he  flails  a  net 
for,  and  uses  dynamite  on,  brook  trout ;  he 
slaughters  snipe  and  plover  in  nesting 
time;  he  traps,  he  snares,  he  steals — he 
resorts  to  any  method  to  get  the  goods 
that  bring  him  market  money — but  he 
never  makes  a  single  move  or  contributes 
a  single  penny  toward  protecting  or  in- 
creasing our  game.  Nor  do  the  potster, 
the  boy  gunner,  and  the  summer-vacation 
fellow  ever  exert  themselves  in  behalf  of 
the  very  things  that  afford  them  sport. 
The  sportsman,  on  the  other  hand,  de- 
votes both  time  and  money  to  the  protec- 
tion of  game.  For  every  bird  he  bags 
and  every  fish  he  creels  he  breeds  or 
helps  to  breed  a  dozen/' 

"  What  's  this  town,  Doctor  ?"  asked 
Corbin,  as  the  wagon  bowled  down  the 
smooth  macadam  road  into  a  little  set- 
tlement quite  on  the  edge  of  the  salt 


82         The  Wild-Fowlers 

meadows,  and  overlooking  the  fine  bay, 
with  the  beach  and  sand-bars  and  sand- 
hills showing  with  exceptional  clearness 
five  or  six  miles  out. 

"  Merrick,"  replied  Bradley;  "  and  this 
is  the  famous  Merrick  Road,  the  popular 
bicycle  highway.  There  are  nearly  a  hun- 
dred miles  of  it,  and  it  runs  through  the 
grandest  natural  scenic  country  you  ever 
dreamed  of." 

"  Bellmore  comes  next,  then,"  said 
Seth,  "and  after  that  Wantah,  then 
South  Oyster  Bay, — Seaford  or  Massap- 
equa,  as  the  baymen  like  to  call  it, — and 
then  Amityville.  We  '11  be  there  before 
dark  if  the  bays  keep  up  this  sort  of 
work." 

"  They  would  go  all  day  at  this  trot," 
said  Bradley,  "  thanks  to  William's  sur- 
passing stable  art — and  my  pocket-book. 
Doctor,  did  you  ever  try  one  of  Seth's 
cheap  cheroots?  They  are  just  the  caper 
for  out-door  smoking.  Give  him  one, 
Seth.  The  rascal  uses  them  to  tip  waiters 


The  Wild-Fowlers         83 

and  boatmen  and  hostlers  with.  He  gave 
one  to  Tom  Storms's  father  at  Greenwood 
Lake  '  once  upon  a  time/  and  the  old  man 
has  n't  been  right  since.  We  must  warn 
Grieb  if  we  expect  any  service  out  of  him. 
Ah,  here  's  Bellmore,  and  there  is  the  inn. 
We  will  pull  up  here,  Seth,  and  warm 
Corbin  with  one  of  the  landlord's  milk 
punches.  Hello,  innkeeper;  hello!"  and 
all  three  jumped  out  upon  the  tavern's 
broad  piazza,  where  the  jovial  landlord 
heartily  greeted  them. 

Having  refreshed  themselves  with  such 
drinks  as  they  each  preferred — Corbin 
gulping  two  milk  punches,  Bradley  two 
steaming  hot-scotches,  and  Seth  a  stone 
mugful  of  new  ale,  while  William  gave 
his  charges  a  sip  of  water  and  took  a  long 
pull  at  the  very  pail  himself — they  bustled 
into  the  wagon  again  and  were  soon  chat- 
ting and  laughing  as  loudly  and  merrily 
as  ever. 

Driving  through  the  village  of  South 
Oyster  Bay  without  a  halt  and  out  into 


84 


The  Wild-Fowlers 


the  fine  open  country  beyond,  the  white 
steeple  of  the  little  church  of  Amityville 
came  into  view,  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore the  party  were  spinning  through  the 
very  centre  of  the  settlement. 


44  There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods, 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 
There  is  society  where  none  intrudes." 

BYRON. 


V 
Cap'in  Grieb,  Bayman 


86 


Cap'in  Grieb,  Bayman 


".     .     .     wide  the  natural  world 
Hath  welcomed  him,  all  perfect  joys  to  share. 

He  hath  no  frets,  he  ne'er  triumphant  boasts." 
ISAAC  MCLELLAN. 

CAPTAIN  GRIEB'S  cottage 
stood  down  toward  the 
head  of  the  salt  creek  in 
which  his  sloop  and  bat- 
tery and  stool  boats  rested 
quietly  regardless  of  wind 
and  tide.  Pulling  the  team  up  sharply 
at  the  cottage  gate,  Bradley  despatched 
William  to  announce  the  arrival.  The 
boy  had  not  proceeded  farther  toward 
the  little  stoop  than  to  the  edge  of  the 
neat  garden's  flower-bed — where  some 
odd  lilies  and  a  hardy  pink-like  flower 
were  already  in  bloom — before  the  ruddy 
Captain  put  in  an  appearance.  He  came 
87 


The  Wild-Fowlers 

around  the  tiny  dwelling  from  the  rear, 
with  both  his  brawny  arms  outstretched, 
striding  along  with  his  rubber-booted  legs 
like  a  clumsy  boy  on  stilts. 

"  Glad  teh  see  yer,  genelmen  ;  glad  teh 
see  yer,  glad  teh  see  yer,  one  an'  all." 

"  Hurrah!  "  chorused  Seth  and  Corbin  ; 
"  hurrah  for  Captain  Grieb!" 

"  Now,  genelmen/'  said  the  Captain, 
addressing  the  party,  but  putting  his 
words  straight  to  Doctor  Bradley,  who 
had  gotten  down  and  taken  the  bayman's 
hand, — "  now,  genelmen,  I  says  't  ain't 
no  use  comin'  in  this  'ere  house  cabin 
o'  mine;  't  ain't  fit.  Now  I  says  we  go 
right  aboard  the  sloop  and  gets  a  hot 
meal  for  all." 

The  suggestion  seemed  to  strike  the 
sportsmen  most  favorably,  and  it  took 
but  a  second  to  arrange  things  to  this 
end.  Bradley  and  the  Captain  walked  to 
the  little  dock,  Seth  drove  the  team 
there,  and  then  all  began  to  unload  the 
traps,  save  the  worthy  Corbin,  who 


The  Wild-Fowlers         89 

bumped  himself  down  upon  a  pile  of  nets 
and  old  sail-cloth  with  the  bottle  of  Ca- 
nadian Club  in  one  hand  and  his  cigar- 
case  in  the  other. 

'  Pleasure  before  business  on  outing 
trips,  boys.  Now  I  says  " — here  imita- 
ting the  twang  of  the  Captain  to  the  ex- 
treme delight  of  Seth — "  let  's  drink 
before  it  gets  too  dark  to  measure ;  I  'm 
careful  about  my  liquor/* 

"  Careful  not  to  be  without  it,"  said 
Bradley,  winking  at  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  you  mind  what  you  say!  You  're 
pretty  near  that  water,  and  Seth  and  I 
have  longed  for  a  good  chance  to  push 
you  overboard.  You  're  no  good  in  the 
world,  anyway.  But,  say,  Doctor,  truth 
now,  that  was  the  best  drive  I  've  had  in 
a  year,  but  't  were  mighty  cold  for  this 
time  o'  year  in  these  parts — regular  De- 
cember wind,  as  sharp  as  icicles.  What 
will  it  be  to-morrow,  Captain  ? " 

"  Cold  an'  clear  fer  two  day  at  least," 
quickly  responded  the  old  bayman ; 


90         The  Wild-Fowlers 

"  then  a  warm  spell,  some  rain,  an*  then 
cold  an'  clear  again/' 

The  traps  were  all  out  of  the  wagon 
now,  and  while  Seth  and  the  Captain 
stowed  them  away  in  the  cozy  sloop 
cabin,  aided  by  the  light  of  two  round 
lanterns  fetched  from  the  cottage  by  the 
Captain's  young  son,  Dr.  Bradley  and 
William  arranged  about  the  team's  care, 
the  Doctor  affectionately  patting  the 
necks  of  his  fine  animals  as  he  gave  his 
instructions.  The  bays  were  to  go  to  the 
tavern's  stables  for  the  night,  then  home 
the  following  day  and  back  again  the  day 
after  that,  to  rest  another  night  in  the 
tavern's  stalls  before  carrying  home  their 
master,  his  friends,  and  the  game. 

"  Good-bye,  William/'  called  Seth 
from  the  cabin's  tiny  window,  as  the  boy 
wheeled  the  team  about.  "  Make  sure 
there  's  no  cartridges  left  in  the  wagon." 

"  And  no  bottles,"  yelled  Corbiri. 

"  Now,  genelmen,  I  says  we  should 
look  teh  see  as  teh  what  we  needs  in  the 


The  Wild-Fowlers         91 

way  of  eatables  an'  drinkables  afore  we 
set  sail,"  said  the  Captain,  when  all  had 
managed  to  squeeze  into  the  little  cabin. 
"  O'  cours  yer  hev  plenty  o'  am'nission 
an'  each  on  yer  a  gun,  I  hope/' 

"  Well,  to  start  with,  Captain,"  replied 
Doctor  Bradley,  "  what  have  you  to  eat 
and  drink  ?  " 

"  Kegs  o'  water  jes  fetched  from  th' 
spring  by  thet  'ere  boy  o'  mine,  all  th' 
good  coffee  all  on  us  could  drink  in  a 
week,  salt,  pepper,  eggs,  pertaters,  can- 
densed  milk,  two  bushel  o'  clam,  a  basket 
o'  isters,  fresh  flounder  an'  eel,  some  fine 
bacon,  an'  a  plenty  o'  ile,  coal,  kinlin, 
matches,  an'  lots  o'  comforters  for  all  on 
us  teh  sleep  in." 

"  Bully  for  you,  Captain  !  "  cried  Seth, 
throwing  back  his  head  and  laughing  with 
great  glee  when  the  sturdy  bayman  in- 
nocently included  the  fuel  and  bed- 
clothing  with  the  list  of  food  and  drink. 

"  But,  genelmen,"  added  the  Captain, 
"  I  says  we  must — thet  ruther  be  yer 


92         The  Wild-Fowlers 

must — hev  somethin'  else,  some  steak, 
an*  tea,  an*  beans,  an*  pickles,  an*  cakes, 
an*  cetlus  powders,  an*  jam,  an*  whis- 
key, an*  the  tother  nick-nacks  city  folks 
like  teh  eat/' 

"  Good  boy,  Captain!  "  shouted  Seth 
again,  fairly  convulsed  with  laughter  at 
the  expression  of  Corbin's  face  when  he 
heard  the  bayman's  new  bill  of  fare. 

"  Well,"  said  the  fat  man,  "by  my 
true  word,  Lieb " 

"  Grieb,  sir,"  the  Captain  said,  mod- 
estly correcting  him;  "hard  name  teh 
'member;  hev  teh  say  it  forty  times  a 
hour  teh  new  'quaintances;  't  ain't  no 
objection  though/' 

"  Grieb,  yes,  to  be  sure.  Well,  Grieb, 
you  're  a  wonder,  though  we  don't  eat 
cetlus  powders.  The  Doctor,  here,  told 
Mr.  Fielding  and  me  that  you  were  a 
sour  old  duffer,  and  we  did  'most  hate  to 
come  down  here  at  one  time.  Now,  Doc- 
tor, you  owe  the  Captain  an  apology ; 
he  's  all  right,  eh,  Seth? "  But  the  Captain 


The  Wild-Fowlers         93 

had  had  enough  experience  with  rollick- 
ing sportsmen  to  see  the  jest  in  Corbin's 
pretended  rebuke  to  his  friend,  and  with 
a  good-natured  wave  of  his  big  arm  he 
climbed  out  of  the  cabin,  and  called  to 
his  boy : 

"  Adam,  you  mus'  go  teh  the  stores 
fer  th'  genelmen;  get  a  gait,  now!  " 

"  O  Lord,  Seth!  "  said  the  ever-pre- 
pared Corbin,  down  in  the  cabin,  as  he 
heard  the  Captain's  command ;  "  O  Lord ! 
Now  he  's  included  a  gate  with  the  other 
things/' 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  Bradley,  "  we  must 
stop  fooling,  and  get  what  supplies  we 
want,  and  then  set  sail.  How  far  east 
shall  you  go,  Captain  ?"  he  added,  as  the 
bayman  came  astern  with  a  keg  of  water. 

"  Off  Babylon,  sir;  we  '11  anchor  on 
th'  battry  groun'  teh-night.  You  genel- 
men '11  sleep  in  the  cabin,  an'  my  boy 
and  me  '11  bunk  up  for'ard  in  th'  decoy 
box.  There  's  plenty  o'  coverin'.  Th' 
battry  '11  be  out  afore  yer  up,  an'  Adam 


94         The  Wild-Fowlers 

an'  me  '11  give  yer  a  hot  bre'kfas'  afore 
yer  teh  rights. ' ' 

Adam  appearing  on  deck  at  this  mo- 
ment, his  father  turned  him  over  to  his 
guests,  and  they  in  turn  gave  him  a  list 
of  the  articles  desired  from  the  village 
stores.  Nearly  all  the  items  mentioned 
by  the  Captain,  and  half  a  hundred  other 
things,  were  written  down  on  a  slip  of 
paper,  and  Adam  was  warned  not  to  miss 
getting  one  of  them  lest  he  wished  to  be 
thrown  overboard.  If  the  steak  were  less 
than  three  inches  thick,  or  the  chickens 
not  just  so  tender,  he  was  to  be  left 
ashore  to  eat  them  raw,  so  Corbin  threat- 
ened; and  if  the  butter  were  poor,  he 
yelled  at  the  boy,  it  would  be  smeared 
on  the  mainstick,  and  he  made  to  climb 
to  the  very  top. 

So  merry  were  the  sporting  trio  in  the 
little  cabin,  and  so  good  the  supper  given 
by  the  Captain,  that  the  evening  wore 
away  before  any  of  them  realized  it.  It 
was  ten  o'clock;  Adam  had  returned 


The  Wild-Fowlers         95 

with  the  shop  articles  to  an  item,  and 
was  busy  clearing  away  the  great  mess  of 
dishes  and  pans  soiled  at  supper;  Corbin 
and  Bradley  were  all  but  asleep,  with  their 
cigars  half  down  their  necks ;  and  Seth  and 
the  Captain,  now  firm  friends,  trimmed 
the  sheets  and  held  the  tiller  as  they 
talked  over  the  prospects  of  game  the 
following  day.  The  sloop  —  by  name 
the  Coot  —  had  cleared  the  creek  and  was 
making  east.  Seth  was  in  a  joyful  eleva- 
tion of  mind,  and  he  more  than  once  ex- 
pressed his  delight  to  his  companion. 
The  moon,  full  and  silver-white,  shone  in 
the  deep  blue  sky,  and  its  effulgence 
played  on  the  water  along  the  very  course 
the  smart  sloop  was  making.  Fire  Island 
Light,  fairly  red  when  shining  with  the 
silvery  moon's  rays,  flashed  out  every 
now  and  again  far  to  the  east;  on  the  bar 
the  reflectors  of  the  life-saving  station 
shone  clear  and  steady,  and  the  village 
lamps  on  the  mainland  burned  as  brightly 
as  if  only  a  few  hundred  yards  away. 


96         The  Wild-Fowlers 

"Adam,"  whispered  the  father,  an 
hour  later  and  still  at  the  tiller,  "  be  all 
the  genelmen  asleep  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dad,  all  of  urn,"  the  boy  softly 
replied. 

'  Then  we  '11  turn  in,  too,  fer  here  9s 
where  we  put  th'  hook  over.'* 


**  Sometimes  I  go  a-fishing  and  shooting,  and  even 
then  I  carry  a  note  book  that,  if  I  lose  game,  I  may  at 
least  bring  home  some  of  my  pleasant  thoughts." 

PLINY. 


VI 


"  Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of 
the  Deep  " 


97 


VI 


"  Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of 
the  Deep" 

'*.     .     .     the  sleep  under  the  blue  vault  of  the  skies, 
sweeter  and  sounder,  lighter  and  more  luxurious  than 
princes  catch  on  beds  of  eider-down  and  velvet." 
HENRY  WILLIAM  HERBERT. 

i  APTAIN  GRIEB  and  his 
son,  Adam,  making  sure 
that  the  three  sportsmen 
*they  had  in  charge  were 
comfortably  reposing  in 
the  little  cabin  of  the  sturdy 
sloop,  arranged  things  to  a  nicety  on  deck, 
then  stealthily  made  their  way  forward  to 
the  decoy  hole  where  they  intended  roll- 
ing themselves  up  in  blankets  for  the 
night. 

"  Lor',  Adam,"  said  the  father,  "  thar 
be  thos'  barols  o'  water,  th'  exter  brant 
stool,    th'    boxes   yer    fetched    from  th' 
99 


ioo       The  Wild-Fowlers 

stores,  an'  th'  single  battry,  all  with  th' 
reg'lar  stool — no  room  lef  fer  us  teh  turn 
in.  We  '11  hev  teh  bunk  with  th'  genel- 
men;  too  col'  teh  sleep  out  o'  cuver 
intire." 

'  You  go  in  the  cabin,  dad,"  said  the 
boy.  "  I  '11  sleep  here;  I  'd  ruther." 

"  So  be  it,  so  be  it,  son,  but  cuver  up 
well;  it  's  frosty;  put  th'  tar-poleans 
under  yer,  an'  one  on  'em  over  yer; 
we  '11  put  out  at  four.  Good  night,  lad." 

The  boy  had  his  shoes  off  and  his  head 
under  cover  almost  before  his  parent 
reached  the  little  cabin  hold,  and  the 
Captain  himself  was  soon  snugly  blan- 
keted and  comforted  and  pillowed  close 
astarboard  on  the  very  bottom  board  of 
the  sloop,  but  quite  in  range  with  the 
three  other  cabin  occupants,  Seth  and 
the  two  doctors,  who  were  sprawled  out 
at  full  length  on  the  well-covered  cabin 
bottom,  each  apparently  enjoying  sound 
slumber. 

"  All  turn  !  "  cried  Seth,  as  the  Captain 


The  Wild-Fowlers        101 

wormed  himself  in  line,  and  then  Seth 
and  Doctor  Bradley  instantly  engaged  in 
uproarious  laughter,  as  the  fat  Corbin, 
suddenly  awakened  at  Seth's  sharp  com- 
mand, and  the  Captain's  wedging  into 
line,  thunderingly  growled  dissatisfaction 
at  being  "  in  the  company  of  two  idiots 
who  did  n't  know  when  to  quit,"  as  he 
put  it,  and  then  turned  over  on  his  side 
with  the  clumsiness  of  a  manatee  and  in 
the  space  a  young  elephant  would  require, 
and  instantly  took  up  snoring  again  as 
though  he  had  never  been  disturbed  in 
his  life,  his  two  companions  the  while 
squeezed  into  such  small  quarters  by  the 
fat  man's  manoeuvre  as  to  make  them 
laugh  all  the  more. 

"Listen  to  the  steam  organ!"  said 
Seth  aloud,  as  Corbin's  sonorous  breath- 
ing continued  with  increased  power. 

"  More  like  the  wail  of  a  drowning 
sow,"  ventured  Bradley,  in  a  whisper, 
and  fairly  convulsed  at  the  unheard-of 
nasal  grunting  of  his  sleeping  friend. 


102        The  Wild-Fowlers 

'  Wonderfully  considerate  of  the  com- 
fort of  others;  takes  up  such  a  little 
amount  of  space,"  said  Seth,  louder  than 
ever.  And  here  the  Captain,  who,  fear- 
ing any  acquiescence  on  his  part  would 
urge  the  two  jokers  to  increased  hilarity, 
was  trying  his  best  to  make  believe  he 
wholly  disapproved  of  what  was  transpir- 
ing among  his  guests,  but  was  plainly 
heard  to  mutter  a  little  muffled  chuckle 
and  then  smother  his  head  in  the  hunt- 
ing-coat pillow. 

It  was  truly  the  most  extraordinary 
snoring  Seth  had  ever  heard,  and  he  re- 
marked this  to  Doctor  Bradley.  Then 
Doctor  Bradley  told  Seth  that  it  was  the 
loudest  snoring  he  had  ever  heard ;  then 
they  expressed  the  same  conclusion  a  half- 
dozen  times  in  chorus,  and  so  kept  up 
the  subject  between  them,  sandwiching 
the  remarks  about  the  exceptional  vocal 
qualities  of  the  fat  man's  nasal  organ  with 
a  variety  of  ludicrous  imitations  of  the  vul- 
gar sounds,  until  the  Captain's  restlessness 


The  Wild-Fowlers        103 

showed  itself  plainly  and  calmed  them 
down.  It  would  n't  do  to  make  the  old 
skipper  real  angry,  Bradley  argued  in  an 
undertone,  and  the  two  good  spirits,  who 
could  n't  for  the  life  of  them  go  to  sleep, 
reduced  the  pitch  of  their  voices  and 
rattled  off  short  speeches  on  half  a  hun- 
dred subjects. 

But  Seth  could  n't  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  jest.  The  hour  and  conditions 
prevailed  upon  him. 

:<  Mighty  dangerous  this  lying  out  here 
in  deep,  open  water  in  a  sloop  without 
any  sort  of  outside  light  aboard,"  said  he 
to  Bradley,  not  long  after  his  friend's 
quieting  word;  4<  and  what  a  wind  is 
springing  up !  A  nor'wester  strong  enough 
to  lift  us  up  and  clean  over  the  outer 
bar!" 

"  Think  so?"  quoth  Bradley. 

"Undoubtedly,"  answered  Seth;  "it 
would  soon  carry  us  out  to  sea  if  our 
anchor  chain  gave  way  and  an  outlet 
were  hard  by.  We  're  drifting  now  and 


104       The  Wild-Fowlers 

pounding  against  some  big  rocks — feel 
that?" 

The  wind  certainly  blew  a  gale,  and 
the  boat  rocked  violently  and  seemed  to 
be  bumping  heavily ;  but  no  danger  lurked 
in  the  Coot's  midnight  harbor,  and  no 
one  knew  this  better  than  Seth  himself, 
the  merry  rascal. 

"  By  ginger!  I  don't  like  this  careless- 
ness," responded  Bradley,  fairly  alarmed  ; 
"no  light  on  deck,  high  wind,  dark  night, 
deep  part  of  the  bay,  open  water,  rocks, 
indifferent  persons  aboard  and  a  cranky 
anchor — Captain!  Captain!  "  and  Bradley 
pulled  wildly  at  the  comforters  and 
blankets,  aiding  his  cries  to  awaken  the 
old  bayman,  while  Seth,  conscious  of 
having  roguishly  evoked  unnecessary  fear 
on  the  part  of  his  friend,  and  anticipating 
a  humorous  state  of  affairs  when  the 
Captain  awoke  to  the  situation,  roared 
up  his  sleeve. 

"Now  I  says,  genelmen,  as  yer  should 
close  haul,  ef  yer*  spect  teh  be  awake 


The  Wild-Fowlers        105 

when  th'  sport  be  on  teh-morrow;  yer  '11 
'quire  sharp  eyes  an*  quick  hands  in  th' 
battry,  genelmen,  an'  yer  'd  bes'  get 
some  sleep/' 

"Yes,  shut  your  mouths,  at  least,  if 
you  can't  close  your  eyes,"  put  in  poor 
Corbin,  as  he  turned  over  again  and  took 
every  speck  of  bed-covering  with  him; 
"  put  'em  out  o'  the  cabin,  Captain,  so 
we  decent  fellers  can  sleep.  Seth,  you  're 
a  little  loafer,  and  that  old  nighthawk 
chuckling  and  whining  alternately  beside 
you  there  should  be  ashamed  of  himself. 
He  acts  as  though  he  never  slept  away 
from  home  before.  When  he  is  n't  an 
ass  he  's  a  coward.  Shut  up,  both  of 
you!"  and  the  fat  man's  tone  of  voice 
clearly  indicated  anger.  The  naturally 
good-natured  old  fellow  could  n't  bear 
being  everlastingly  disturbed  in  his  slum- 
ber. 

"  I  can't  sleep  in  unsafe  quarters,"  re- 
sponded Bradley.  '  You  fill  up  with 
drink  and  food  until  you  're  drowsy 


io6        The  Wild-Fowlers 

enough  to  snore  anywhere,  regardless  of 
conditions.  Captain/'  continued  the 
Doctor  quite  seriously,  "  Mr.  Fielding 
says  there  's  no  light  on  deck,  that  we  're 
in  deep,  open  water,  near  an  outlet  and 
on  some  rocks  and  likely  to  be  smashed 
to  pieces  if  not  blown  out  to  sea — hear 
that  wind !  The  sloop  '11  blow  over  in  a 
minute  if  the  anchor  chain  does  n't  give 
way !  My,  what  are  we  bumping  against ! 
Had  n't  we  better  do  something  ?  "  and 
the  Doctor,  now  fairly  angry  as  well  as 
frightened,  reached  over  and  gave  Corbin 
a  sound  drubbing  on  his  fat  shoulders. 
"  Confound  your  lazy  indifference!  "  said 
he ;  "  it  's  such  as  you  that  cause  mishaps 
on  the  water.  Captain,  what  '11  we  do  ?  " 

11  Well,  I  says  as  yer  'd  bes*  go  teh 
sleep  ef  yer'  spect  teh  get  eny  birds  in 
th'  mornin'." 

"  But  what  about  this  wind  and  these 
rocks  ? " 

"  Lor',  Doctor,  Mister  Fieldin'  be  a 
jokin'  ef  yer — it  's  low  tide,  thar  beant 


The  Wild-Fowlers        107 

more  'n  tew  foot  o'  water  fer  a  mile  about, 
an*  not  a  piece  ef  rock  big  's  a  clamshell 
in  th'  hull  bay.  We  're  in  th'  eel  grass,  an' 
th'  bumpin'  be  nuthin'  et  all  'cept  th' 
hook  rope  a-pullin'  tight  an'  th'  tiller  pin 
a-shiftin'  teh  th'  swell  unct  in  a  while. 
Go  teh  sleep,  genelmen ;  yer  '11  be  glad 
on  it  teh-morrow." 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  the  bay  and  the 
tide  and  the,  the  —  Seth's  rocks,"  said 
Doctor  Bradley,  somewhat  comforted  by 
the  practical  man's  making  little  of  the 
situation;  "  he  can't  fool  me,  he  is  n't 
trying  to  fool  me — hear  that  wind !  Can't 
we  put  a  light  on  deck  ?  " 

"  Oh,  genelmen,  don't  fret  so;  thar  be 
no  danger;  no  sloops  is  in  th'  bay  teh- 
night  'cept  our  own  an'  Purdy's,  an'  th' 
win'  beant  over  warm;  don't  fret  so;  go 
teh  sleep ;  birds  is  plenty ;  go  teh  sleep ; 
I  ain't  follered  the  bay  fer  fifty  year  fer 
not  teh  know  th'  danger  times;  go  teh 
sleep;  birds  is  plenty." 

"All  right,  Captain,"  responded  Seth, 


io8       The  Wild-Fowlers 

not  wishing  to  try  the  old  fellow's  good 
nature  too  far;  "  good-night.  Come  on, 
Doctor  Bradley,  everything  's  safe ;  I  was 
merely  testing  the  heeding  qualities  of 
that  hopeless  man,  Corbin  —  good-night, 
everybody/' 

"  Well,  I  'm  with  you,"  said  Bradley, 
resignedly,  but  none  the  less  disturbed 
by  the  awful  gale  and  the  booming  of  the 
tiller  post  and  anchor  rope,  "  if  that  in- 
considerate beast's  grunting  does  n't  keep 
us  up  all  night.  Good  night,  Captain; 
good  night,  Seth ;  good  night,  wild  boar, 
and  mind  you  now,  Corbin,  I  '11  not  suffer 
your  snoring  from  now  on.  I  '11  trust  to 
the  Captain's  word  about  our  safety  in 
this  hurricane,  but  not  one  bar  of  your 
nose  solo  will  be  allowed.  Talk  about 
putting  us  out  of  the  cabin  for  merely 
being  careful,  you  indifferent  old  broad- 
bill!  Just  snore  once  more,  and  I  '11 
show  you  who  '11  go  out  of  the  cabin. 
Good-night,  Seth;  good-night,  Captain." 

"  Good-night,  genelmen." 


The  Wild-Fowlers        109 

But  Doctor  Corbin,  the  dear  old  chap, 
did  snore,  and  louder  than  ever,  but  he 
was  n't  put  out  of  the  cabin  as  threat- 
ened, for  none  of  his  companion  sleepers 
heard  him.  Their  long  day  of  good  mer- 
riment outdoors  told  gently  upon  them 
at  last,  and  they  were  rocked  into  that 
sleep  known  only  to  those  made  tired  by 
natural  exercise  and  good  nature. 

The  Captain  never  moved  from  the 
moment  he  settled  down  after  quieting 
his  noisy  guests,  and  was  not  even  heard 
to  breathe.  He  was  soundly  asleep  the 
minute  he  first  settled  himself  comfort- 
ably under  the  covers  before  Seth  began 
his  yarn  of  possible  shipwreck,  and  prob- 
ably would  not  have  awakened  until 
arising  time  in  the  early  morning  had  not 
the  fretful  Bradley  aroused  him. 

Little  Adam  lay  snugly  among  the  tar- 
paulins in  the  decoy  hole,  with  the  bright 
stars  shining  down  full  upon  him,  and  the 
soft,  salty  spray,  made  by  the  gale-driven 
low-tide  water  breaking  o'er  the  smart 


no       The  Wild-Fowlers 

sloop's   sides,   playing  gently  about   his 
shaggy  head. 

There  was  something  soothing  in  all 
this  wild  play  of  the  elements,  even  to 
the  timid  Bradley ;  there  is  always  a  com- 
forting susceptibility  during  repose  upon 
the  water  aboard  a  sturdy  craft  in  a  safe 
anchorage,  and  the  wilder  the  wind  and 
wave,  the  greater  the  toss  of  the  Captain's 
Coot,  the  sounder  seemed  the  sleep  of  the 
sporting  trio  and  their  skipper. 


To  him  who  in  the  love  of  nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language  ;  for  his  gayer  hours, 
She  has  a  voice  of  gladness,  and  a  smile, 
And  eloquence  of  beauty,  and  she  glides 
Into  his  darker  musings  with  a  mild 
And  healing  sympathy,  that  steals  away 
Their  sharpness  ere  he  is  aware." 

BRYANT. 


VII 


Seth  Fielding's  First  Lesson  in 
Battery  Shooting 


112 


VII 

Seth  Fielding's  First  Lesson  in 
Battery  Shooting 

The  fowler  ever  finds  some  new  delight, 

Amid  the  varied  scenes  that  nature  spreads  ; 
Far  from  the  tumults  and  the  clash  of  life, 

Thro'  all  her  loveliest  haunts,  rejoiced  he  treads. 
Oft  where  the  breezy  bay  outspreads  its  sheet 

He  lurks  in  ambush  'mid  the  russet  reeds, 
Or  from  the  floating  battery  stealth'ly  peers 

To  mark  the  shallows  where  the  bluebill  feeds." 
Haunts  of  Wild  Game. 

llGHT  slowly  slipped 
•away,  and  when  the 
gray  period  of  early  morn 
was  but  a  half-hour  in 
advance  of  dawning 
time,  Captain  Grieb  stole  softly  from  his 
cabin  couch  toward  the  heap  of  tarpau- 
lins, intent  upon  rousing  little  Adam, 
his  youthful  helpmate ;  but  ere  the  old 
man  had  gone  forward  farther  than  the  first 

8 

"3 


ii4       The  Wild-Fowlers 

tiny  porthole  of  the  sloop  his  quick  eyes 
discerned  the  faint  outlines  of  the  boy, 
already  thoroughly  awake  and  busy  tying 
on  his  clumsy  shoes. 

No  greeting  passed  between  them ;  no 
word  or  signal  marred  their  sharp  move- 
ments. A  mere  glance  at  each  other,  a 
single  meeting  of  the  eyes,  conveyed  the 
mutual  acknowledgment  of  the  new  day. 

The  man  hoisted  an  oaken  pail  of  salt 
water  aboard,  plunged  both  his  hands  and 
half  his  head  into  it,  splashed  and  splut- 
tered in  it  a  full  minute,  rubbed  his  eyes 
and  great  mass  of  hair  with  a  violence 
that  would  have  jarred  up  a  hundred 
headaches  in  the  cranium  of  a  less  hardy 
person,  wiped  himself  with  equal  ferocity 
for  fully  five  minutes  on  a  coarse  red-bor- 
dered towel,  tossed  the  latter  article  to 
the  boy,  emptied  and  refilled  the  pail 
with  the  dash  of  an  athlete,  and  then 
actually  hornpiped  himself  astern  and 
bumped  down  upon  the  cabin  corner  like 
a  gleeful  boy  of  ten,  rapidly  beating  his 


The  Wild-Fowlers        115 

legs  the  while  with  his  great  palms,  and 
most  humorously  humming  a  sailorman's 
tune  precisely  as  we  imagined  Mr.  Peg- 
goty  humming  to  himself  on  the  beach  of 
old  Yarmouth. 

No  sign  of  the  dawn  as  yet  appeared 
beyond  that  peculiar  dusky  gray  of  early 
morn,  but  the  old  Captain's  squinting 
sweep  of  the  horizon  told  him  the  weather 
prospects  were  fair,  that  the  approaching 
day  promised  at  least  clearness  and  sun- 
shine with  a  cold,  brisk  northwest  wind, 
the  very  next  best  sort  of  conditions  to 
real  good  ducking  weather.  Not  the  sort 
of  weather  for  great  flights,  thought  he, 
but  perhaps  no  better  day  on  earth  to  an- 
swer the  purpose  of  the  three  rollicking 
sportsmen  he  had  aboard. 

The  wind  still  swept  spankingly  from 
the  northwest,  though  milder,  much, 
since  midnight,  and  the  stars  twinkled 
and  the  lights  of  the  mainland  and 
the  life-saving  stations  on  the  outer 
bar  were  still  shining  forth  as  merrily  as 


n6        The  Wild-Fowlers 

ever.  Fire  Island  Light,  now  but  a  few 
miles  to  the  east,  shone  with  regular 
flashes  ten  times  more  distinct  than  when 
viewed  from  the  creek  mouth  at  Amity- 
ville,  and  the  boom  of  the  rolling  surf 
came  rumbling  faintly  from  the  south, 
like  the  muffled  noise  of  distant  thunder. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Captain  had 
brought  the  dingy  and  stool  boat  from 
the  stern  to  the  port  side  of  the  Coot,  and, 
with  Adam's  assistance,  was  lowering  the 
single  ducking  battery  from  the  top  of  the 
decoy  hole  to  the  choppy  water's  surface. 

Little  bunches  of  broadbill  were  flitting 
by  in  the  gray  light,  now  winging  swiftly 
seaward  across  the  bows,  again  whistling 
along  westward  or  eastward,  off  port  or 
starboard,  and  sometimes  scurrying  quite 
overhead  in  all  directions. 

Brant,  too,  in  numberless  platoons, 
were  flying  by,  while  thousands  upon 
thousands  floated  on  the  water  on  all 
sides. 

Flights  of  black  scoter  ("coot")  that 


The  Wild-Fowlers        1 1 7 

looked  for  all  the  world  like  lazy  brant, 
reeled  along  the  very  surface  of  the  great 
lagoon,  and  a  wedge  of  big  Canada  geese 
came 

"  Straight  o'er  Jersey's  sandy  borders, 
O'er  Long  Island's  sea-like  sound, 
Past  Fire  Island,  bleak  Montauk, 
North,  still  north,  unerring  bound." 

The  single  battery  having  been  success- 
fully righted,  the  Captain  entered  the 
dingy,  made  fast  the  battery's  tow-line  to 
the  stern  of  the  stool  boat,  and  the  latter 
craft's  line  to  the  stern  of  the  little  dingy, 
and,  plying  the  oars,  pulled  away  to  the 
battery  ground,  two  hundred  yards  south 
of  the  sloop's  anchorage.  The  water  was 
low,  but  the  tide  was  slowly  running  in 
upon  the  shallow  beds  of  eel  grass.  A 
hundred  yards  nearer  the  Captain  and  his 
rigging  the  Coot  would  have  been  well 
aground  in  any  sort  of  tide. 

Delicious  fumes  of  fresh,  boiling  coffee, 
toasting  biscuit,  and  frying  bacon  perme- 
ated the  crisp  air,  and  little  Adam  looked 


n8       The  Wild-Fowlers 

the  very  picture  of  a  sailor  cook  as  he 
stood  butter-knife  in  hand  and  aproned 
to  his  very  feet  in  the  cabinway,  calling 
to  his  father : 

"  Com*  in,  dad;  th'  bre'kfas'  be  ready, 
an*  th'  genelmens  is  up/' 

And  they  were  washed  and  combed  and 
dressed,  too — each  of  them  in  true  duck- 
ing apparel,  the  doctors  both  in  rubber 
boots,  gray  canvas  coats,  and  corduroy 
caps  and  trousers,  and  Seth  snugly  ar- 
rayed in  high,  heavy  tan  shoes,  a  grayish 
dog-skin  jacket,  a  woollen  pull-down 
headgear  of  the  same  shade,  and  rubber, 
silk-lined  gloves. 

Gray  is  the  correct  color  for  battery 
work,  just  as  light  brown  or  dead-grass 
shade  is  the  proper  thing  for  full-season 
upland  shooting,  or  in  the  late  autumn 
play  in  the  brown  marshes  for  jack  snipe 
and  in  the  salt-meadow  blind  and  sandbar 
pit  for  bay  birds,  and  no  one  knew  these 
important  details  better  than  our  three 
good  friends  aboard  the  Coot. 


The  Wild-Fowlers        119 

"Come  in,  Captain,"  called  Seth; 
"  you  're  to  have  the  biggest  slice  of 
bacon  and  the  hottest  cup  of  coffee  for 
beating  us  out  of  bed." 

"  He  '11  take  rum  afore  his  coffee,  or 
by  my  true  word  I  've  judged  him  too 
wise,"  said  Corbin,  flask  and  cup  in  hand. 
"  Come  in,  man,  come  in!  I  'm  well 
nigh  dead  o'  hunger,  and  this  boy  of 
yours  here  has  all  but  asphyxiated  me 
with  bacon  smoke.  Come  in,  will  you  ?" 

"  I  'm  a-comin'  teh  unct,"  yelled  the 
Captain,  firing  out  decoys  all  about  him ; 
"  hev  only  a  pair  more  o'  brant  stool  an' 
a  broadbill  er  two  teh  toss  over;  can't  yer 
wait  a  minute  more,  fer  th'  Lor'ssake  ? " 

And  here  the  big  bayman  reached  out 
with  an  oar,  and  catching  a  turned-upside- 
down  decoy  by  its  weight  string,  flung  it 
up  in  the  air  and  away  off  over  the  heads 
of  all  the  other  bobbing  stool  into  open 
water,  where  it  came  down  and  righted 
itself,  as  much  like  a  living  duck  as  the 
brightest  broadbill  in  the  bay. 


120       The  Wild-Fowlers 

"I  'm  comin'  now,  genelmen,"  he 
said;  and  forthwith  began  poling  the 
dingy  sloopward,  while  each  of  his  guests 
eagerly  sought  the  port  side  to  give  him 
a  hand. 

"  Good  mornin',  genelmen;  th'  best  o' 
th'  day  teh  yer,  all  on  yer,  one  an'  all, 
says  I,  Capem  Grieb." 

Seth  reached  out  and  pulled  him  aboard 
the  Coot,  and  Doctor  Bradley  whipped  the 
dingy  anchor  rope,  very  sailorlike,  as  he 
thought,  to  the  tiller  post,  while  the  fat 
Corbin  affectionately  poked  the  rum  flask 
under  the  bayman's  nose  with  one  hand 
and  slapped  him  soundly  on  the  shoulders 
with  the  other. 

"  No  licker  now  fer  Capem  Grieb,  says 
I,"  quoth  the  bayman  to  Corbin,  waving 
him  off;  "I  never  drinks  th'  stuff  afore 
bre'kfas',  nor  eny  meal  'cept  bedtime." 

"  Nor  does  anybody  else,  Captain," 
said  Seth,  slyly  winking,  "  except  an  old 
stickler  who  can't  go  more  than  snoring 
time  without  his  grog.  Drink  the  rum 


The  Wild-Fowlers        121 

yourself,  porpoise;  we  '11  not  join  you. 
We  want  to  see  the  birds  we  shoot  at  to- 
day. Come,  Adam,  lay  on  your  hot  bis- 
cuit and  eggs  and  bacon,  and  Doctor," — 
to  Bradley, — "  you  pou*1  out  that  most 
delicious  coffee.  I  '11  serve  the  food,  and 
the  Captain  shall  do  nothing  but  warm 
up  and  eat." 

"Oh,  Lord,  Captain  Grieb!"  cried 
poor  Corbin;  "hear  'em  now — they  '11 
not  join  me  in  the  rum !  No  wonder — 
they  drank  double  their  share  afore  I  was 
up,  I  swear  it ;  and  your  boy  will  tell  you 
so,  too;  he  saw  'em  as  well  as  I.  Darn 
your  false  temperance,  you  two  —  darn 
your  sly  gulping!  Darn  your  every 
thought !  I  'd  a  sight  rather  be  a  soak — 
though,  by  my  true  word,  I  'm  not — than 
be  a  drinker  on  the  sly,  and  a  liar,  too. 
Oh,  Captain,  don't  believe  'em.  I  drink 
but  little,  and  that  in  the  open,  but  these 
two  are  the  real  soaking  kind ;  they  drink 
when  no  one  's  looking." 

And  Corbin's  little  eyes  sparkled  like 


122        The  Wild-Fowlers 

the  beady  optics  of  a  rattler  and  his  fat 
cheeks  flushed  with  good-humored  excite- 
ment as  he  back-handed  Seth  in  the  ribs 
and  shied  his  own  portly  sides  down  into 
the  little  cabin,  where  now,  in  place  of 
quilts  and  blankets  and  shooting-coats 
and-boots,  among  which  our  merry  friends 
had  spent  the  night,  the  cozy  space 
beamed  in  all  the  glory  of  a  real  breakfast 
table,  tiny  as  it  was,  with  hot  and  glisten- 
ing white  plates,  large  round  coffee  mugs, 
pans  brimful  of  steaming  biscuit,  platters 
of  the  thinnest  brown  bacon,  and  square 
dishes  of  golden  yellow  eggs. 

Breakfast  over,  the  sportsmen  hastened 
on  deck,  Seth  to  be  taken  to  the  battery 
first  as  agreed  upon,  and  his  two  friends 
to  see  him  off  and  settled  in  the  box; 
Bradley  explaining  as  he  emerged  from 
the  cabin  that  next  to  good  actual  sport  is 
witnessing  others  in  the  play. 

"  Now  I  says,"  remarked  the  Captain 
to  Seth,  as  he  helped  his  young  charge 
into  the  dingy,  "  es  how  't  would  be  teh 


The  Wild-Fowlers        123 

yer  good,  since  yer  've  never  been  in  th' 
sink-box,  teh  not  git  on  yer  topmast 
when  I  takes  it  on  m'self  teh  righten  yer 
a  bit  'bout  th'  thing.  Some  city  fellers 
comes  down  here  an'  haint  square  'nough 
like  yer  be  to  afess  thet  they  haint 
shooted  from  a  machine,  an'  thems  th' 
kind  o'  men  es  I  likes  teh  hev  fail  teh  see 
haf  th'  birds  es  comes  along  an'  amiss  th' 
tother  half  es  they  do  sees.  Yer  square 
'bout  th'  thing,  an'  I  says  I  'd  right  well 
alike  teh  see  yer  git  a  nice  mess  o'  birds, 
brants  an'  broadbills  in  'ticular." 

And  the  dingy  slowly  moved  off  toward 
the  battery  and  its  great  flock  of  imitative 
wild  fowl. 

"  Thank  you,  Captain,"  responded  the 
young  man.  !<  I  freely  tell  you  I  have 
never  shot  from  a  battery,  nor  have  I 
even  ever  seen  one  before  this  day.  I  '11 
gladly  follow  all  your  advice  and  thor- 
oughly appreciate  all  you  do  and  say  in 
my  behalf. ' ' 

"  Well,  then,  Mr.  Fieldin',  when  I  gits 


124       The  Wild-Fowlers 

yer  in  th'  machine  yer  teh  lay  flat  on  yer 
back  with  yer  head  by  the  anchor  end  on 
th'  little  air  pillar,  but  low  down,  and  yer 
feets  straight  out  close  up  agin  th'  big 
weight  at  th'  tother  end.  Don'  show  yer- 
self,  on'y  w'en  yer  raise  teh  a  settin'  persi- 
tion  teh  shoot,  an'  don'  rise  up  till  yer 
well  see  th'  full  eyes  o'  th'  birds.  Haf 
th'  men  es  gits  in  th'  machine  firs'  rises  up 
all-firen  too  soon,  afore  th'  birds  ere 
within  two  hundred  yards.  Th'  lin'  o' 
sight  on  th'  water  be  awful  deceivin' — 
makes  th'  birds  look  three  times  es  near 
es  they  really  be.  Jes  yer  lay  right  down 
an'  keep  calm;  hev  yer  gun  over  yer  feet 
with  th'  barrels  a  restin'  'bout  over  yer 
lef  ankle,  an'  th'  muzzle  ends  fer  certain 
sure  a  stickin'  clean  out  o'  range  o'  th' 
sides  o'  th'  box,  les  yer  gun  goes  off  acci- 
den'  an'  blows  a  hole  es  big  es  yer  neck  in 
th'  sides  er  the  bottom,  which  I  says  is 
more  'n  likely  teh  sink  th'  machine,  and 
while  yer  'd  suffer  no  more  'n  a  good 
wettin' — es  there  beant  enough  water 


The  Wild-Fowlers        125 

here  to  drown  a  man — th'  acciden'  'd  end 
th'  day's  fun,  fer — So,  so!  Git  down, 
Mister  Fieldin' !  There  be  two  brents 
a-comin'  straight  along,  an*  it 's  a  more  'n 
likely  es  they  won't  see  us  in  this  gray 
light  afore  they  be  well  up — git  close 
down,  mebbe  yer  can  hit  one — be  yer 
loaded  ?  Nope,  their  eyes  be  too  good ; 
they  hev  turned  an'  won't  com'  aroun' 
again  a  little  bit  now.  Ef  yer  hed  a-bin* 
in  th'  box,  yer  might  hev  got  thet  leader 
bird ;  but  never  mind,  yer  '11  git  a  share  o' 
good  sport  afore  yer  long  in  th'  ma- 
chine." 

Here  the  dingy's  side  touched  the 
folded  canvas  stretcher  of  the  battery, 
and  the  Captain  told  Seth  to  step  lightly 
with  the  right  foot  into  the  very  centre  of 
the  zincked  box,  balance  carefully,  and 
then  draw  the  other  foot  in.  This  the 
young  man  did  as  nicely  as  the  bayman 
could  have  wished,  and  the  old  fellow  ac- 
knowledged as  much. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Grieb,  "  take  yer  box 


i26       The  Wild-Fowlers 

o'  cartridges,  put  'em  at  yer  feet,  an'  then 
lay  down  as  close  es  yer  can.  Ef  any 
birds  com'  along  a  great  way  off  an'  don' 
see  yer,  raise  yer  leg  up  like  this  " — and 
the  Captain  threw  his  rubber-booted  leg 
up  in  the  air  and  waved  it  up  and  down 
in  imitation  of  a  duck  raising  itself  out  of 
water  and  shaking  its  feathers,  as  he  ex- 
plained— "  an'  quack  a  little  like  this." 
And  here  he  made  the  oddest  sort  of  imi- 
tative duck  call  ever  heard  in  the  Great 
South  Bay. 

"  Ef  they  be  in  perty  nigh,  an'  yet  not 
noticin'  th'  stools,  make  yer  han's  go  pas' 
each  other  fas'  like  I  be  a-doin'.  But  don' 
show  yer  head  an'  don'  smoke.  Yer  hev 
nothin'  teh  fear;  th'  machine  can't  blow 
erway,  it  can't  sink  more  'n  two  feet,  an' 
droundenin'  be  out  o'  th'  question.  Ef 
th*  water  splashes  in  on  yer,  turn  up  them 
ere  lead  string  pieces  es  runs  all  'bout. 
When  yer  kills  a  bird,  wave  yer  cap.  I  '11 
look  toward  yer  from  th'  sloop  every  time 
I  hears  yer  gun — there  comes  a  bunch  o' 


The  Wild-Fowlers        127 

broadbill  teh  th'  eastward,  git  down  close- 
like,  now ! ' ' 

And  the  Captain  shoved  away  from  the 
battery. 

"  Don't  catch  cold,  Seth!  "  yelled  Cor- 
bin  from  the  deck  of  the  Cooty  where  he 
looked  the  picture  of  comfort  as  he  puffed 
on  his  black  cigar. 

"  Don't  shoot  all  the  decoys  to  pieces, 
for  the  Doctor  and  I  want  a  few  for  our 
turn/'  called  Bradley,  as  he,  too,  puffed 
out  the  blue  smoke  of  his  first  Key  West 
of  the  morning. 

Seth  laughed  at  these  playful  remarks 
from  his  two  good  friends,  but  made  no 
retort,  being  too  eager  to  follow  every 
turn  of  the  flock  of  ducks  the  Captain  had 
called  his  attention  to. 

Grieb  poled  to  the  sloop,  hastily  fast- 
ened the  dingy  astern,  and  jumped  aboard 
beside  the  tiller.  Adam,  whom  the  father 
by  some  mysterious  means  signalled  to, 
had  the  anchor  up  on  the  bows,  and  the 
craft  made  away  so'west  in  such  short 


128       The  Wild-Fowlers 

order  that  Doctor  Bradley  and  Doctor 
Corbin  stared  with  amazement. 

The  flock  of  broadbill,  perhaps  ten 
birds  in  all,  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
from  mere  specks  in  the  distance  slowly 
but  gradually  developed  into  larger  ob- 
jects, until,  with  rapid  beatings  of  their 
swift  wings,  they  came  so  near  that  the 
meanest  eye  might  have  made  them  out 
wild  fowl.  One  short  turn  would  wheel 
them  forty  yards  from  the  trailers  in  the 
decoy  fleet,  and  —  ah,  they  wheel ! — 
"  boom!  " — a  leader  collapses  in  midair; 
"boom!"  a  second  bird  trails  down 
within  seventy  yards  of  the  head-line  of 
the  stool.  Seth  Fielding  makes  his  first 
kill — a  double,  too — from  the  battery, 
and  that  with  his  first  discharges. 

No  need  of  waving  the  cap,  thought 
the  shooter;  every  man  aboard  the  sloop 
must  have  seen  the  fowl  tumble  in  the 
air,  for  the  Coot  was  not  more  than  three 
hundred  yards  away,  and  even  so  soon  as 
Seth  glanced  toward  her  after  he  had  re- 


The  Wild-Fowlers        129 

loaded  she  had  come  about  and  was  al- 
most stationary,  with  her  homely  mainsail 
shaking  in  the  breeze.  The  dead  fowl 
drifted  in  the  tideway  toward  the  dingy, 
which  Adam  propelled  away  from  the 
sloop  a  few  minutes  later,  and  were  gath- 
ered in  by  the  boy. 

This  sort  of  play  was  repeated  many 
times  during  the  morning,  Seth  bagging 
at  least  a  specimen  or  two  of  every  species 
that  frequents  the  bay  at  this  time  of  year. 
Broadbill,  brant,  "  coot/'  old  squaw,  and 
sheldrake  all  came  his  way,  and  when  he 
and  his  friends  sorted  the  game  aboard 
the  sloop  they  found  in  the  mess,  besides 
the  half-dozen  broadbill  and  three  brant, 
a  pair  of  redhead,  a  single  canvasback, 
and  two  couple  and  a  half  of  grayduck. 

"  Hunting  is  the  noblest  exercise, 
Makes  men  laborious,  active,  wise  ; 
Brings  health,  and  doth  the  spirits  delight. 
It  helps  the  hearing  and  the  sight ; 
It  teacheth  arts  that  cannot  slip 
The  memory,  good  horsemanship, 
Search,  sharpness  and  defense, 
And  chaseth  all  ill  habits  hence." 

JOHNSON. 


VIII 
The  Bayman's  Choice 


132 


VIII 
The  Dayman's  Choice 

1  For  each  young  sportsman  he  hath  gracious  mood, 
Teaching  him  lessons  of  the  bay  and  wood  ; 
Perfect  in  health  and  joyous  in  his  ways, 
He  cheers  with  sunny  speech  inclement  days  ; 
Hath  ever  kindliest  word  and  helping  hand, 
A  cheerful  nature  to  dispel  life's  gloom, 
And  so  his  name  and  memory  will  survive 
On  earth,  tho'  he  be  resting  in  the  tomb." 

MCLELLAN. 

)APTAIN  GRIEB,  sitting 

on  the  tiny  ladder  leading 
to  the  cabin  of  his  sloop, 
with  his  great  rubber 
"boots  quite  dangling  over 
the  reclining  form  of  Doctor 
Corbin,  expressed  his  admiration  of  Seth 
Fielding's  crack  shooting  in  the  battery 
during  the  morning,  and  conceded  to 
Doctor  Bradley  in  a  most  humorous  whis- 
per, strangely  louder  than  his  ordinary 
133 


134       The  Wild-Fowlers 

voice,  that  "  'T  was  mighty  hones'  like 
in  th'  young  man  teh  afess  he  hed  n't 
shooted  from  th'  machine  afore." 

It  was  evident  that  Seth  had  won  the 
old  bayman  completely.  "  He  's  got  a 
bad  eye  fer  ducks  an'  ken  shoot  better  'n 
eny  o'  them  braggin'  sort  o'  fellers  es 
comes  out  here  gunnin'  in  th'  Great 
South  Bay  unct  in  a  while,"  said  the  old 
man,  levelling  his  glass  once  more  in  the 
direction  of  Seth  and  the  battery. 

"  He  be  th'  kind  o'  man  I  likes — a  true 
spor'sman  from  th'  word  go.  He  'd  be 
this  'ere  much  ef  he  could  n't  es  much 
es  hit  stool  birds.  'T  ain't  ne'ssary  teh 
kill  teh  be  th'  right  sort  enyway.  I 
knows  a  plenty  o'  good  an'  true  spor's- 
men  es  could  n't  hit  a  hull  bunch  o'  stool 
ten  feet  erway.  I  likes  a  spor'sman  in 
eny  shape  —  good  shot  or  not  — but  I 
kent  stan'  th'  pretender  man,  an'  I  ken 
pick  out  th'  spor'sman  from  th'  pretender 
feller  et  a  glance.  I  'm  a-down  on  th' 
feller  es  tries  teh  deceive  me.  I  beant 


The  Wild-Fowlers        135 

'tickler  es  teh  who  I  takes  in  th'  bay,  so 
long  es  they  don't  preten'.  I  'm  jes'  es 
satisfied  with  a  greenhorn  es  a  right  smart 
crack  shot,  but  I  kent  stan'  th'  know- 
nothin'  feller  a-tryin'  teh  make  me  think 
he  's  all-firm'  edecated  'bout  shootin' 
an'  fishin'.  I  '11  treat  a  man  es  don' 
know  a  gun  from  a  clam  rake  jes'  es 
square  es  I  treats  th'  'sper'enced  man, 
but  in  a  differen'  way,  an'  it  's  th'  bes' 
fer  all  concern'.  I  kent  make  up  win'  er 
down  win'  wi'  a  feller  es  tries  teh  swindle 
me  'bout  knowin*  things.  Thar  beant  no 
shame  in  ig'rance  enyway,  an'  I  kent 
see  sense  in  dece'vin'  yer  frien's,  w'en  by 
jes'  sayin'  yer  don'  know  an'  yer  'd  like 
teh  know  yeh  'd  gain  some'in' — I  likes 
teh  'commodate  a  hones'  man — w'en  by 
a-lyin'  yer  on'y  makes  trouble.  'T  ain' 
suppose  I  'd  be  able  teh  run  a  locomotive 
er  figger  up  books  like  city  fellers,  an' 
where  's  th'  harm  in  a-fessin*  this  ?  Why 
should  ig'rant  men  come  out  'ere  an' 
preten'  teh  know  all  'bout  th'  natur'  ef 


136       The  Wild-Fowlers 

th'  hull  bay  an*  all  'bout  guns  an*  rods 
an*  th'  fish  an'  th'  birds  an'  am'nision, 
w'en  they  by  certain  don*  know  which 
en'  th'  shot  comes  out  o'  th'  shell  ?  " 

"  I  guess  you  are  n't  bothered  much  in 
this  respect,  Captain/'  said  Doctor  Brad- 
ley. "  You  don't  often  have  these 
blockheads  to  contend  with." 

"  Why,  I  does,  Dr.  Bradley,  es  sure  es 
I  'm  a-tellin'  ye;  but  I  makes  it  a  good 
rule  teh  take  care  es  not  teh  be  troubled 
a  secon'  time  by  th'  same  feller.  By  Lor' 
they  be  th'  worstes'  fools  es  ever  yer 
seed,  an'  no  bayman  ever  helps  'em  learn, 
w'en,  if  they  wer  a  hones'  sort  we  'd 
show  'em  th'  same  service  es  we  give  th' 
bes'  'sper'enced  man.  No,  no,"  con- 
tinued the  old  man  with  a  great  earnest- 
ness, "  I  don'  want  enythin'  teh  do  wi' 
th'  pretender  chap,  though  ther'  beant 
enythin'  I  would  n't  do  fer  th'  hones' 
greenhorn.  I  beant  supercisious  ef  eny- 
thin' 'cept  th'  pretender  feller.  I  beant 
erfraid  o'  th'  number  thirteen,  er  a-doin' 


The  Wild-Fowlers        137 

things  on  a  Friday  er  walkin'  under  a 
yeller  ladder  on  Wednesday,  but  I  jes' 
wan*  teh  keep  clear  o'  th'  make-believe 
spor'sman  es  I  would  o'  a  red  snake  on 
th*  san'  beach  or  a  rattler  in  th*  bush. 
Th'  right  stuff  beant  in  'em,  an*  no  man 
ken  put  it  in  'em." 

"Well,  by  my  true  word,  Weib  — 
Grieb,"  said  Doctor  Corbin,  correcting 
his  confusion  in  the  bayman's  name, 
"  you  're  a  rare  philosopher." 

"  No,  no,  Doctor  Corbin,  I  ain't  on'y 
jes'  a  plain  follower  o'  th'  bay;  but  I 
s'pose  I  hev  my  likes  an'  unlikes  jes' 
likes  t'other  folks,  but  all  th'  other  men 
down  here  feels  th'  same  way.  How  'd 
this  here  Mister  Fieldin'  larn  so  much 
'bout  th'  machine  an'  th'  hull  bay  ef  he 
hain't  been  in  th'  box  afore  ?  I  never 
seed  another  man  es  knowed  es  much 
'bout  birds  an'  gunnin'  es  him.  He  tol' 
me  more  'n  I  ever  knowed  afore  w'en 
we  was  a-sittin'  on  deck  las'  night  — 
not  a-braggin'  like,  genelmen — no,  no, 


138       The  Wild-Fowlers 

— but  jes'  good  plain  reg'lar  inferma- 
sion." 

"  Oh,  Seth  's  a  great  boy,  Captain," 
replied  Bradley ;  he  was  born  with  a  shot- 
gun in  his  hands,  you  might  say.  His 
father  taught  him  chivalrous  sportsman- 
ship in  his  childhood,  and  all  his  ancestors 
were  genuine  sportsmen  —  the  real  kind, 
you  know.  Seth's  father  used  to  say, 
'The  sportsman,  like  the  poet,  is  born,  not 
made/  and  I  guess  it  's  true.  The  old 
man — an  Englishman  of  the  old  school, 
the  Johnny  Bull  sort,  not  of  the  con- 
ceited assinine  class  our  young  dudes 
so  love  to  ape,  but  the  genuine  English 
gentleman,  him  of  the  glowing  face, 
strong  arm,  honest  heart,  and  brave  spirit 
— was  a  great  character,  like  his  son." 

1  'Wai,  I  don'  know  'bout  th'  father," 
responded  the  bayman,  but  his  boy  be  a 
ten-poun'  surf  runner  ef  ever  there  be 
one.  I  wish  I  was  his  father,  I  wish  my 
Adam  'd  be  like  Mr.  Fieldin'  w'en  he  's 
growed  up,  but  thet  could  n't  heppen; 


The  Wild-Fowlers        139 

thet  ain't  teh  be;  my  boy  beant  edecated 
further  'n  follerin'  th'  bay/' 

The  Captain  then  related  his  expe- 
rience with  Seth  the  previous  night 
as  the  two  sat  at  the  tiller  in  the  moon- 
light. 

"  He  to!'  me  es  how  he  was  a-goin'  teh 
shoot  No.  8  shot  et  th'  ducks  instead  of 
No.  4  or  No.  5,  es  be  reg'lar.  He  said 
es  how  I  war  n't  teh  tell  yer  until  he  was 
in  th'  battery,  es  he  'lowed  yer  'd  laf  et 
him.  By  thunder,  he  be  right  'bout  th' 
thing,  tho'  I  mus'  afess  I  thought  him 
wrong  et  th'  time  he  told  me.  He  sed 
No.  4  and  No.  5  was  too  big  fer  broad- 
bills  an'  th'  tot  her  ducks,  but  alright  fer 
the  brents  an'  th'  big  Kenedy  geese. 
Mister  Fieldin'  seems  to  kill  alright  wi'  th' 
little  No.  8  charge  though,  and  his  frien', 
Mr.  Loomis,  never  uses  eny  shot  larger 
'n  No.  8  on  broadbills,  an',  genelmen,  Mr. 
Loomis — know  him,  Burton  Loomis,  city 
man  ? — he  be  a  reg'lar  bay  shot  an'  no 
mistake.  I  never  seed  enyone  es  could 


140       The  Wild-Fowlers 

beat  him  duck  or  snipe  or  plover  shootin', 
'tic'larly  on  broadbills  in  th'  machine." 

*  What  's  your  favorite  load  for  snipe 
and  plover,  Captain?*'  asked  Doctor 
Bradley. 

"  No.  8  fer  kerlew  an*  willet,  No.  10 
fer  th'  yeller-legs,  both  large  an*  small, 
an'  th'  black  breas'  an'  golden  plover,  an' 
No.  12  fer  th'  surf  snipe,  ringnecks, 
dowitch,  oxeyes,  an'  all  the  little  snipe." 

"  And  for  the  ducks  and  geese,  what 
do  you  use  ?  "  asked  Doctor  Corbin. 

"  No.  4  fer  th'  ducks,  all  on  'em,  an* 
double  B  fer  the  brents  and  Kenedys, 
tho'  I  think  wi'  Mr.  Fieldin',  No.  4 
would  do  alright  fer  the  brents." 

"  Suppose  you  had  a  choice  of  but  one- 
size  shot  for  all  the  bay  birds  and  one  for 
all  the  ducks  and  geese,  what  would  it 
be  ?  "  from  Bradley. 

"  Wai,  I  'd  take  No.  10  fer  all  th'  bay 
birds — th'  snipes  and  plovers — and  No.  4 
fer  th'  ducks  an'  geese." 

"  Many  canvasback  and  redhead  come 


The  Wild-Fowlers        I41 

in  the  Great  South  Bay  nowadays,  Cap- 
tain ?"  asked  Corbin. 

*  Unct  in  a  while;  they  beant  all 
gone  never  teh  return,  es  I  've  heard  it 
sed  by  som'  folks.  Las'  fall  I  seed 
a-plenty  o'  canvasbacks,  redhead,  an* 
grayduck  es  well  es  swarms  o'  all  th' 
common  birds  —  broadbills,  ol'  squaws, 
brents,  blackducks,  sheldrakes,  an*  th' 
coots.  Teal  don'  reg'lar  come  in  th'  bay 
et  eny  season,  but  we  see  'em  in  th' 
fresh  ponds  of'en,  both  th'  greenwing  an* 
th'  bluewing,  tho'  th'  beautiful  little 
green  wing  which  be  no  bigger  'n  a  good- 
sized  pigeon  be  scarcer  'n  the  bluewing, 
which  be  a  flock  bird,  while  th'  greenwing 
be  mos'ly  seen  in  pairs.  Yer  frien',  Mr. 
Fieldin',  genelmen,  he  knows  all  'bout 
these  things,  es  I  larned  las'  night.  He 
did  n't  tell  'em  teh  me  right  out  like, 
feelin'  perhaps  es  how  I  orter  know  es 
much  es  he  'bout  th'  bay.  He  sort  o' 
asked  me  ef  this  an'  thet  worent  th'  case, 
perlite  like,  yer  know." 


The  Wild-Fowlers 


'  What  do  these  ducks  feed  on,  Cap- 
tain ?  "  asked  Doctor  Bradley. 

"  Wai,  I  s'pose  season  hes  a  good  deal 
teh  do  wi'  it,  es  wi'  us  folks,  but  th' 
broadbill,  which  es  our  plentiest  bird  an' 
which  I  likes  teh  eat  better  'n  redhead 
an*  -pretty  near  es  well  es  canvasback, 
feeds  a  little  on  grasses  an'  mostly  on 
little  clams  an'  little  mussels  no  bigger  'n 
yer  littlest  fingernail.  He  dives  fer  his 
food,  pulls  up  the  grass  in  doin'  so,  eats 
the  bottom  part  sometimes,  an'  lets  th' 
top  part  float  down  fer  th'  brents  teh  eat." 

"  The  brant  makes  the  broadbill  gather 
his  dinner,"  said  Bradley. 

"  Yes;  thet  be  'bout  so.  The  brents 
don*  dive,  an'  they  allus  toilers  th'  broad- 
bills  teh  get  th'  grass  they  pulls  up." 

"  Broadbill  's  your  favorite  duck  when 
cooked,  then,  Captain  ?  "  from  Corbin. 

"  Not  azacly  ;  I  favor  blackduck 
ahead  of  'em  all,  tho'  nex'  teh  th'  black- 
duck  I  likes  canvasback." 

And  so  the  three  jovial  men  talked  on 


The  Wild-Fowlers        143 

subjects  manifold  for  another  hour,  when 
the  Captain,  suddenly  dropping  his  field 
glass  with  the  remark,  "  Thet  'ere  boy  be 
wavin'  his  cap  teh  come  in,"  made  off  in 
the  dingy,  poling  with  all  his  might 
toward  the  battery. 


"The  water  is  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  creation, 
the  element  upon  which  the  Spirit  of  God  did  first 
move." 

ISAAK  WALTON. 


IX 

The  Contemplative  Sportsmen 


145 


I46 


IX 

The  Contemplative  Sportsmen 

"Oh!  gentlemen  legislators,  gentlemen  sportsmen, 
*  reform  it  altogether.'  " 

FRANK  FORESTER. 

N  hour  before  full  noon, 
Seth  waved  his  cap,  the 
signal  to  have  the  din- 
gy come  to  him  from 
the  Coot,  the  signal  that  meant 
to  his  companions — Doctor  Bradley 
and  Doctor  Corbin,  who  were  snugly 
housed  in  the  sloop's  cozy  cabin  —  that  he 
had  had  his  share  of  shooting  for  the  day ; 
so  he  was  taken  aboard  and  the  old  Cap- 
tain and  Adam  began  rigging  out  the 
double  battery,  in  which  the  two  fat  doc- 
tors were  to  enjoy  the  afternoon  and  early 
evening's  sport. 

Seth's  friends  all  welcomed  him  with 
147 


148       The  Wild-Fowlers 

hot  coffee  and  a  great  assortment  of  bay 
food  and  bacon,  and  the  young  sports- 
man's appetite  was  equal  to  the  offering. 
His  cheeks  glowed  with  a  rosy  tan,  his 
clear  blue  eyes  twinkled  merrily,  and  his 
ringing  laughter  and  general  demeanor 
showed  clearly  the  good  effects  of  pure 
air  and  out-door  exercise. 

"  Good  Lor',  boy,"  said  Corbin  to  Seth 
as  he  prepared  a  hot  clam  broth  for  his 
young  friend,  '  you  must  be  frozen! 
It  's  mighty  cold  here,  and  must  be 
colder  in  that  ice-box  out  there.  My, 
how  you  do  shoot,  boy  !  Where  'd  you 
learn  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  exactly,"  responded 
Seth;  "  out  west,  I  imagine,  when  quite 
young.  I  had  a  careful  teacher  in  my 
father.  He  began  with  me  almost  from 
the  cradle.  I  've  shot  a  great  many 
times  as  a  boy  with  the  old  gentleman  in  a 
duck  boat  hidden  on  marshy  points  down 
the  Detroit  River  somewhere  around 
Grosse  Isle  when  that  territory  was  a 


The  Wild-Fowlers        149 

wilderness.  I  Ve  seen  the  governor  bag 
twenty  canvasback  and  as  many  redhead 
in  a  morning.  It  must  have  been  fully 
thirty  years  ago,  when  such  sporting 
characters  as  Seth  Green,  Ira  Paine, 
Joseph  Christian,  John  Parker,  Edward 
Gilman,  Colonel  Evarts,  Governor  Bagley, 
Cook  Cousins,  Colonel  Mark  Flannigan, 
and  many  other  good  spirits  of  these 
days  were  in  their  prime.  Those  were 
great  days  for  game.  My  father,  a  resi- 
dent of  Detroit, — he  lived  there  for  forty 
years, — used  to  bag  wild  turkey,  wood- 
cock, grouse,  and  quail  within  an  hour's 
drive  of  the  spot  where  the  Soldiers' 
Monument  now  stands. 

"  I  never  shot  ducks  on  salt  water  be- 
fore to-day,"  continued  Seth,  "  but  I 
like  the  sport,  and  don't  think  it  's  easy 
play  in  the  battery.  Many  of  the 
bunches  of  broadbill  went  by  at  a  speed 
of  fully  a  mile  a  minute,  and  the  redhead 
that  were  favored  by  the  wind  must  have 
winged  it  quite  as  fast." 


150       The  Wild-Fowlers 

*  Well,  is  it  unsportsmanlike — this  bat- 
tery shooting  —  as  you  read  me  in  the 
chapters  from  Frank  Forester  and  Robert 
Roosevelt  ?"  laughed  Doctor  Bradley. 

'Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  replied  Seth; 
'  but  I  want  to  add  that  it  's  no  boy's 
play  to  get  the  game.  It  's  far  from 
being  easy  work  to  kill  in  the  battery. 
The  water  and  the  sky-line,  the  immense 
open  space  and  the  clear  atmosphere,  tend 
to  deceive  you  in  the  matter  of  distance. 
The  ducks  appear  to  be  fully  half  as  near 
to  you  as  they  really  are,  and  a  tyro  at 
the  play  would  certainly  shoot  before  the 
proper  moment,  as  I  invariably  did  the 
first  full  hour  this  morning.  The  shoot- 
ing is  quite  as  honorable,  I  think,  as  any 
sort  of  game  shooting.  The  only  un- 
sportsmanlike feature  in  the  method  is 
the  fact  that  the  battery,  and  conse- 
quently its  occupants,  the  shooters,  are 
located  directly  on  the  fowls'  feeding- 
grounds.  I  would  rather  shoot  from  a 
point  while  the  game  is  on  its  way  or 


The  Wild-Fowlers        15 1 

coming  from  the  places  it  frequents  in 
feeding.  Besides,  the  practice  is  in  vogue 
in  April  as  well  as  during  all  the  autumn 
and  winter  months,  and  this  is  a  ruinous 
law.  No  migratory  game — no  game  of 
any  sort — should  be  bagged  in  the  spring 
of  the  year,  when  they  are  mating  and 
preparing  to  breed.  All  forms  of  game 
shooting  should  be  limited  to  the  fall  and 
winter  periods.  Even  this  restriction 
would  not  save  many  important  species 
from  being  exterminated,  the  same  as  the 
American  bison,  the  beaver,  and  the  wild 
pigeon  were  destroyed.  But,  while  I 
think  of  it,  another  point  about  battery 
shooting —  the  trick  the  birds  have  of 
getting  right  into  the  decoys  without 
your  seeing  their  approach.  Of  course, 
many  come  from  behind  you,  and  the 
rule  of  lying  flat  on  your  back  prevents 
you  from  keeping  a  lookout  in  this  direc- 
tion, but  the  number  of  bunches,  large 
flocks,  pairs,  and  single  birds  that  come 
from  the  very  direction  your  face  is 


i52        The  Wild-Fowlers 

turned  to  and  fly  right  in  front  of  your 
gun  muzzles  before  you  discover  them 
is  astounding.  And  these  are  the  birds 
most  often  missed — these  and  the  ones 
shot  at  out  of  range  by  the  gunner  incor- 
rectly estimating  the  distance  through 
the  deceptions  I  have  mentioned." 

'  Yes,  perhaps  April  should  be  ex- 
cluded from  the  legal  period/*  said  Doc- 
tor Bradley ;  "  but  I  presume  it  is  included 
for  two  reasons  —  brant  [brent  geese]  are 
more  plentiful  hereabout  during  this 
month  than  at  any  other  time,  and  the 
fact  that  our  ducks,  geese,  snipe,  and 
plover  do  not  nest  here," — and  the  Doc- 
tor helped  Seth  to  his  third  bowl  of  coffee, 
while  poor  jolly  Corbin,  jokingly  dis- 
tracted at  the  young  man's  extravagant 
appetite,  began  the  frying  of  a  new 
batch  of  eggs  and  half  a  pan  of  thin  slices 
of  bacon. 

"  Now  that  is  true,"  replied  Seth ;  "the 
wild  fowl  and  bay  birds  do  not  nest  in 
these  latitudes,  though,  to  be  precise,  we 


The  Wild-Fowlers        153 

should  exclude  the  clapper  rail,  the  little 
spotted  sandpiper,  and  one  or  two  other 
small  species.  A  few  pairs  of  these 
pipers  do  nest  along  our  tide  creeks  and 
trout  streams,  and  the  clapper  rail 
[meadow  hen]  is  a  regular  breeder  on 
our  salt  meadows.  But,  as  you  say,  the 
great  body  of  wild  fowl  and  shore  birds 
do  not  breed  here.  They  visit  us  on 
their  way  to  the  great  nesting  grounds  in 
the  far  north.  They  flight  in  here  for  a 
little  rest  and  food,  and  they  are  easily 
taken  by  hundreds — aye,  by  thousands. 
They  are  gentle  in  the  spring-time  when 
they  are  engaged  in  selecting  their  mates, 
and  they  do  not  possess  a  true  game 
quality,  in  flavor  or  character/* 

"  Quite  true,  quite  true/*  cried  both 
the  doctors  in  chorus,  Doctor  Bradley 
adding :  '  *  We  all  feel  that  way  about 
spring  gunning,  and  we  will  not  be  sorry 
when  April  is  counted  among  the  months 
of  closed  time.  Some  of  the  greedy  fel- 
lows gun  for  snipe  and  plover  all  through 


i54       The  Wild-Fowlers 

the  month  of  May  when  the  law  says  they 
shall  not  give  trigger.  Even  many  of  the 
baymen  who  derive  a  living  by  guiding 
sportsmen  to  the  snipe  and  plover  blinds 
take  out  men  and  boys  to  shoot  in  May. 
The  guide  should  be  the  last  man  on 
earth  to  disregard  the  law — to  slaughter 
in  mating  time — for  without  the  game  he 
could  n't  make  a  living  outside  of  his  eel 
pots  and  clam  holes." 

"  Yes,"  added  Corbin,  "  April  is  bad 
enough,  and  though  it  is  quite  lawful  to 
gun  for  ducks  and  geese  during  this 
month — the  season  ends  May  1st — the 
Doctor  and  I  have  long  contemplated 
giving  up  the  practice.  We  would  n't 
have  come  out  here  this  April  only  for 
you — we  wanted  to  introduce  you  to  the 
Great  South  Bay  and  at  the  same  time 
discuss  the  very  matter  now  in  hand.  So, 
having  accomplished  our  purpose  without 
breaking  any  law,  mind  you,  and  having, 
as  you  shall  see  later  on,  really  performed 
an  act  for  the  good  of  both  game  and 


The  Wild-Fowlers        155 

gunner,  no  more  spring  shooting  for  us 
from  now  on,  law  or  no  law." 

'  Thank  you,  my  good  friends/'  re- 
plied Seth.  "  And  let  us  hope  we  can 
some  day  arrange  matters  so  that  our 
snipe,  plover,  duck,  and  geese  may  be 
spared  here  by  all  sportsmen  in  their 
spring  migration, — their  journey  from  the 
south  where  they  winter  to  the  north 
where  they  breed, — for  when  this  is  done 
they  will  return  here  with  their  herds  of 
young  in  the  late  summer,  autumn,  and 
early  winter  months  when  on  their  way  to 
the  south  again,  and  we  will  all  have  bet- 
ter sport  at  better  conditioned  fowl.  To 
shoot  a  bird  in  the  spring-time  is  like  de- 
stroying, as  Shakespeare  says,  the  vine  for 
one  sweet  grape.  Every  duck  or  goose  or 
snipe  or  plover  shot  in  the  mating  season 
means  the  destruction  of  the  brood  it 
would  raise  for  us,  as  well.  But  I  must 
say  I  like  bay  shooting,  and  I  hope  to 
have  lots  of  it,  in  the  proper  season, — the 
fall  and  winter  months, — and  from  a  reedy 


156       The  Wild-Fowlers 

point  off  one  of  those  many  beautiful 
channel  islands  in  the  western  part  of  the 
bay." 

"It  is  time  sportsmen  united  in  an 
effort  to  save  our  shore  birds  and  wild 
fowl  before  they  are  utterly  extermi- 
nated/' said  Corbin.  "  I  hope  they 
won't  wait  until  it  is  too  late,  as  they  did 
in  the  case  of  the  pigeon,  buffalo,  and 
beaver. ' ' 

"  Four  new  laws  would  insure  good 
wild-fowling  and  bay  snipe  and  plover 
shooting  for  many  years,"  responded 
Seth;  "or,  at  least,  save  the  species  from 
being  killed  off  entirely:  (i)  Restrict  bat- 
tery shooting  to  waters  that  do  not  flow 
over  actual  feeding-grounds,  or  do  away 
with  the  machine  altogether;  (2)  abolish 
spring  shooting — let  the  fowl  season  end 
April  1st  instead  of  May  1st;  (3)  rid  the 
land  of  the  plumage  gatherer,  the  brutal 
destroyer  who  tears  off  wings  and  heads  of 
all  species  of  birds,  in  and  out  of  season, 
for  the  millinery  store ;  (4)  put  down  the 


The  Wild-Fowlers        157 

market  shooter — prohibit  the  sale  of  game. 
With  these  laws  in  full  force  our  migra- 
tory game  birds  would  be  spared  the  fate 
of  the  wild  pigeon,  and  the  gentle  sports- 
man's rural  pleasures  would  be  preserved 
forever,  for  the  man  of  the  wing  gun  of 
to-day  is  a  gentleman  and  is  too  wise  to 
the  growing  scarcity  of  his  game  to  wan- 
tonly take  more  birds  than  an  honest  out- 
ing entitles  him  to.  I  don't  believe  any 
sportsman  ever  takes  more  than  a  gentle 
share  of  game,  bird,  quadruped,  or  fish, 
though  there  are  indifferent  shooters  and 
fishermen  who  judge  their  day  by  the 
size  of  their  creel  or  game-bag,  but  they 
are  not  sportsmen  and  have  no  more  right 
to  the  title  than  the  marketman  and  plu- 
mage gatherer  should  be  termed  sports- 
man. The  fellow  who  shoots  or  fishes  for 
mere  quantity  is  a  bungler,  a  rowdy,  and 
a  dangerous  person,  no  matter  what  his 
reason  may  be — that  he  kills  for  the  mar- 
ket, that  he  gathers  feathers  for  the 
woman's  hat,  or  that  he  must  display  a 


158       The  Wild-Fowlers 

greedy  bag  to  save  his  reputation  as  a 
mighty  fieldman  or  angler.  Such  de- 
stroyers may  not  have  been  so  objection- 
able a  hundred  years  ago,  when  game 
swarmed  the  land,  but  their  practices  to- 
day, when  game  is  so  scarce  and  becom- 
ing scarcer  every  day,  are  criminal,  and 
sportsmen  must  join  forces  and  make  laws 
say  so.  But,  enough  of  this  for  the  pres- 
ent, say  I.  Do  you  gun  the  same  in  win- 
ter as  in  the  fall,  Doctor,  here  in  the 
Great  South  Bay  ?" 

44  Yes;  pretty  much/'  replied  Doctor 
Bradley.  "  Some  of  the  baymen  and  one 
or  two  hardy  sportsmen  I  know  of  shoot 
in  mid-winter,  even  when  the  bay  is  filled 
with  snow  and  ice.  They  then  dress  all 
in  white  and  look  like  just  so  much  snow, 
and " 

"  An'  kill  lots  o'  birds,"  added  the  old 
Captain;  "more  'n  is  shooted  in  th' 
spring  er  any  other  time  o'  year,  but  it  's 
cold  sport,  mighty  cold,  I  tell  yer.  But 
come,  genelmen,  yer  double  battery  be 


The  Wild-Fowlers        159 

nigh  ready,"  added  the  bay  man,  nodding 
to  the  two  doctors,  "  an'  yer  want  teh  be 
right  smart  now  an*  do  es  well  es  Mister 
Fieldin'  did  this  morninV  And  the  two 
old  sportsmen  began  adjusting  their  warm 
top  jackets  and  rubber  boots. 


11  To  be  glad  of  life,  because  it  gives  you  the  chance 
to  love  and  to  work  and  to  play  and  to  look  up  at  the 
stars  ;  to  be  satisfied  with  your  possessions,  but  not 
contented  with  yourself  until  you  have  made  the  best 
of  them  ;  to  despise  nothing  in  the  world  except  false- 
hood and  meanness,  and  to  fear  nothing  except 
cowardice  ;  to  be  governed  by  your  admirations  rather 
than  by  your  disgusts  ;  to  covet  nothing  that  is  your 
neighbor's  except  his  kindness  of  heart  and  gentleness 
of  manners  ;  to  think  seldom  of  your  enemies,  often  of 
your  friends,  and  every  day  of  Christ  ;  and  to  spend 
as  much  time  as  you  can  with  body  and  with  spirit,  in 
God's  out-of-doors.  These  are  little  guide-posts  on 
the  footpath  to  peace." — HENRY  VAN  DYKE. 


X 


The  Last  Chapter 


161 


162 


X 

The  Last  Chapter 

*'  Did  more  worship  in  the  open  air,  under  the  broad 
ciborium  of  heaven,  the  social  standards  of  health  and 
morality  would  rise  simultaneously." 

R.  G.  PEARSON. 

|  OW  about  your  little  No.  8 
shot  on  ducks,  Seth?" 
^  asked  Doctor  Bradley 
of  his  young  friend,  who  had 
finished  his  homely  midday  meal 
in  the  tiny  cabin  of  the  sloop  and  was 
cutting  off  the  end  of  a  great  black  cigar 
Doctor  Corbin  had  helped  him  to  out  of 
the  sportsmen's  leather  case. 

Old  Grieb  was  tugging  away  at  various 
ropes  and  other  things  in  the  decoy  hole 
in  an  endeavor  to  make  room  for  the 
single  battery  to  be  taken  aboard  as  soon 
as  the  double  machine  was  fully  adrift. 
163 


1 64       The  Wild-Fowlers 

Little  Adam,  the  Captain's  ruddy  son, 
was  busy  too,  and  it  was  a  treat  to  Seth 
and  his  companions  to  observe  with  what 
remarkable  good-nature  he  received  his 
father's  boisterous  orders. 

"  Yes,"  echoed  Corbin,  as  the  three 
men,  observing  the  old  bayman  coming 
toward  the  cabin,  tried  their  best  to  ap- 
pear unconcerned  in  his  quarrelling  with 
the  boy;  "  yes,  tell  us  how  the  quail  shot 
worked  on  the  ducks,  Seth/' 

"  So  the  Captain  has  told  you  of  our 
conversation  on  deck  last  night,  has  he  ? " 
said  Seth.  "  Well,  the  load,  a  trifle  over 
an  ounce  of  No.  8  shot  with  but  two  and 
a  half  drams  of  nitro  powder  behind  it, 
performed  as  well  as  I  expected,  but  I 
must  admit  I  prefer  a  larger-size  pellet — 
say  a  No.  4  for  brant  and  the  Canada 
geese,  and  No.  6  for  all  the  ducks,  though 
I  was  taught  to  use  No.  4  on  ducks,  and 
a  larger  size,  BB,  I  think,  on  geese.  My 
father  used  No.  4  on  canvasback,  red- 
head, and  broadbill — called  bluebill  in  the 


The  Wild-Fowlers        165 

western  part  of  the  country,  and  black- 
head in  the  south — and  he  was  a  great 
duck  shooter.  Still,  I  think  he  'd  have 
done  as  well,  perhaps  better,  with  No.  6 
at  the  ducks." 

"And  your  12-gauge  gun — did  it  do  as 
well  as  a  lo-gauge  would  have  done?" 
asked  Bradley. 

"  Better— for  me,"  replied  Seth,  "  but 
I  do  not  say  it  is  a  better  gauge  than 
other  gauges  in  the  hands  of  all  men,  be- 
cause all  men  are  not  alike  in  their  con- 
sideration of  wild-fowling.  I  think  all 
gentle  sportsmen  will  approve  of  my  idea 
of  the  sport,  but  all  men  who  use  shot- 
guns are  not  sportsmen,  any  more  than 
the  bungler  who  fishes  with  a  chalk  line 
and  a  horseshoe  sinker  may  be  termed  an 
angler;  so  I  shall  not  be  without  an 
arguer  or  two  when  my  discourse  reaches 
certain  ears.  I  can  kill  as  far  with  my  12- 
gauge,  or  even  a  14-  or  i6-gauge,  as  with 
a  larger  bore,  so  why  should  I  use  a  big, 
heavy,  clumsy  ID-gauge,  since  I  do  not 


1 66       The  Wild-Fowlers 

ply  my  tarpon  rod  in  trout  fishing  ?  No 
sportsman  of  to-day  cares  to  bring  down 
more  than  one  bird  with  each  barrel,  and 
an  ounce  of  shot  is  all  any  decent  gunner 
need  use  for  that  purpose.  My  i6-gauge 
will  throw  that  ounce  load  as  far  and  as 
straight  as  any  man's  lo-gauge,  and  I 
have  a  bright  new  thousand-dollar  note  to 
back  the  statement/' 

"  Stage  money  or  genuine  goods, 
Seth  ?  "  laughed  Bradley. 

"  Whichever  you  choose,  Doctor;  but 
if  you  wager,  or  if  any  sportsman  takes 
the  wager,  it  will  be  on  the  same  side  my 
money  lies.  The  flock  shooter — the  fel- 
low who  guns  for  the  markets  and  milli- 
nery stores  and  who  can't  afford  an  ounce 
of  shot  on  but  one  bird — may  stake  his 
purse  the  other  way,  and  if  he  does  and 
I  'm  his  opponent,  he  '11  lose. 

"  I  am  aware  that  this  declaration  and, 
of  course,  my  views  in  general  on  this 
subject,  as  expressed  here,  would  not 
meet  the  approval  of  the  shoot-at-the- 


The  Wild-Fowlers       167 

whole-flock  fellow,  and  the  smaller  fry  of 
gun  dealers  who  have  a  large  assortment 
of  market-size  guns  in  stock, — some  of 
them  even  handle  an  8-bore,  and  I  know 
a  bayman  whose  best  patron  shoots  a  4- 
bore, — nor  will  my  ideas  be  approved  of 
by  the  little  hole-in-the-wall  ammunition 
shops  and  at  the  dry-goods-store  sporting 
counters,  where  quantity  in  sales  rather 
than  quality  is  the  standard  motto,  but 
what  I  say  regarding  the  i6-gauge  arm 
and  its  small  charges  is  true  none  the  less, 
and  though  the  time  is  not  quite  ripe  for 
the  general  adoption  of  the  small  wing 
gun  in  place  of  its  larger  cousins,  the  bet- 
ter class  of  gunmakers  will  soon  recognize 
the  truth  of  the  matter,  just  as  they  did 
in  the  case  of  the  flintlock  and  the  cap 
gun,  the  muzzleloader  and  the  breech- 
loader, and  the  hammer  and  the  hammer- 
less  guns." 

"  I  guess  you  're  right,  boy,"  said  Cor- 
bin,  "  but,  by  my  true  word,  the  Doctor 
and  I  don't  worry  much  about  the  thing, 


1 68       The  Wild-Fowlers 

anyway.  We  've  had  our  day.  Bradley  's 
too  old  and  I  'm  too  stout  to  find  it  worth 
any  great  difficulty  to  perfect  the  matter 
in  our  cases.  Ha!  cases — not  gun-cases. 
No  pun  intended,  I  assure  you/' 

"  But  Seth  is  quite  right/'  said  Doctor 
Bradley,  "  though,  as  you  say,  Doctor,  I 
am  too  old  to  become  excited  over  any- 
thing nowadays,  and  I  will  stand  by  him 
in  this  gun  question,  but  he  need  n't 
think  his  immediate  argument  has  settled 
the  affair  in  my  mind.  I  have  for  years 
seen  the  thing  just  as  he  pictures  it, 
though  the  advent  of  nitro  powder  has 
increased  my  belief,  I  will  admit." 

'  Thank  you,  Doctor,"  answered  Seth; 
"  and  thank  you,  Doctor  Corbin.  Now  a 
word  more.  Old  and  fat  as  you  both  are, 
you  must  admit  you  love  this  gun  talk, 
and  you  'd  both  work  like  young  race 
horses  to  work  it  into  practical  service  if 
you  were  put  to  the  test;  you  know  you 
would,  indifferent  as  you  claim  to  be.  I 
use  my  i6-gauge  on  snipe,  quail,  and 


The  Wild-Fowlers        169 

woodcock,  and  Loomis  and  Stoltz  claim 
I  do  quite  as  good  shooting  as  any  of  the 
10-  and  12-gauge  guns  of  their  acquaint- 
ance. I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see  any 
good  reason  for  the  use  of  a  lo-gauge  in 
any  sort  of  sporting  this  side  of  Africa, 
since  at  single  wing  game  the  12-,  14-,  and 
16-  are  quite  as  killing.  Why  burn  un- 
necessary powder  ?  Why  carry  an  eight- 
or  nine-pound  gun  when  an  arm  of  six 
pounds  with  its  compact  ammunition  will 
do  the  work — the  sportsman's  work  ?  Of 
course,  a  lo-gauge,  loaded  with  heavy 
charges  of  shot,  will  kill  more  birds  in  a 
bunched  flock,  but  sportsmen  do  not  kill 
more  than  one  bird  at  a  single  discharge, 
and  they  do  not  shoot  at  the  bunches. 
This  is  the  market-men  and  milliners'  busi- 
ness. I  am  not  advocating  a  business  gun 
or  a  business  load  or  a  business  pursuit. 
My  dealings  are  with  the  sportsman  and 
his  arm  and  ammunition.  Why  ride  a 
clumsy  thirty-pound  wheel  when  one  of 
eighteen  pounds  serves  better?  Why  use  a 


1 70       The  Wild-Fowlers 

mule-teamster's  lash  on  a  horse-lover's 
trotting  team?  Why  play  tennis  with  a 
cannon-ball  ?  Why,  as  an  angler,  would 
you  drag  a  market-fisherman's  net  for 
brook  trout,  or  flail  a  surf  rod  along  the 
tiny  mountain  stream  ?  The  gun-clerk's 
excuse,  '  The  small  gun  recoils  too  much,' 
will  not  do  in  these  practical  days  of  nitro 
powder  and  perfect  wadding,  though  it 
may  serve  to  sell  his  large-bore  over- 
stock, and  the  wheelmaker's  plea,  '  The 
light  wheel  is  not  strong  enough  for  safe 
riding,'  may  help  sell  the  old,  heavy 
machines;  but  the  well  informed  rider 
knows  the  light  wheel  is  the  correct  arti- 
cle for  comfort  and  good  riding." 

"  Why  deh  yer  use  th'  12  instead  of  th' 
1 6  on  ducks,  then,  Mr.  Fieldin  '  ? "  asked 
Captain  Grieb,  who  had  come  up  to  the 
little  group  to  announce  the  readiness  of 
the  double  battery. 

"  Only  because  I  possess  the  two  guns, 
Captain  Grieb.  The  16  kills  ducks,  as  I 
shoot  them — singly — as  well  as  the  12. 


The  Wild-Fowlers        171 

The  flock  shooter — the  fellow  who  judges 
his  day  by  the  quantity  of  his  game  rather 
than  the  quality  and  pursuit  of  it — should 
use  a  cannon,  just  as  the  rowdy,  who  can't 
kill  enough  fish  with  the  rod  to  satisfy  his 
greedy  nature,  uses  a  net  or  stick  of  dyna- 
mite to  secure  his  insatiable  mess/' 

*  Why  not  advocate  a  2O-gauge,  Seth, 
and  be  done  with  it  ?  "  put  in  Bradley. 

"Because  a  2o-gauge  is  too  small  to 
well  stand  a  full  ounce  of  shot  and  the 
powder  necessary  to  propel  it,  in  my 
opinion,  and  one  needs  an  ounce,  but  not 
more,  for  general  wing  shooting.  I  am 
speaking  of  an  all-round  wing  gun,  Doc- 
tor, not  special  pieces.  The  2O-gauge  and 
its  light  charges  would  be  nice  for  small 
bay  snipe  and  plover — the  oxeyes,  ring- 
necks,  dowitcher,  etc. — but  nothing  else. 
I  want  my  full  ounce  for  woodcock,  Eng- 
lish snipe,  quail,  grouse,  etc.,  as  well  as 
in  big  bay  snipe  and  plover  shooting  and 
wild-fowling.  If  a  man  requires  more 
birds  than  he  can  bag  singly,  he  's  a 


172       The  Wild-Fowlers 

pot-shot  hoodlum,  a  milliner's-man,  or  a 
market  gunner,  and  if  one  can't  shoot  well 
enough  to  kill  on  the  wing  with  an  ounce 
of  scattering  shot  he  should  give  up  the 
sport/' 

"  And  play  golf/'  added  Corbin. 
"  Say,  Seth,  did  you  see  any  black- 
duck  ?" 

"  No.  I  don't  think  the  blackduck 
often  comes  to  the  battery  stool ;  does  it, 
Doctor  Bradley  ? " 

"  No;  it  does  not.  That  bird,  though 
fond  of  salt  water,  is  a  point,  creek,  and 
pond  duck.  A  bunch  often  troops  by  the 
battery  stool,  and  I  Ve  killed  a  few  pairs 
from  the  sink-box  in  my  day,  but  they  are 
best  taken  from  a  point  near  a  favorite 
feeding  creek  when  the  tide  is  low  late  in 
the  day  or  very  early  in  the  morning.  The 
blackduck  is  the  greatest  of  wild -fowl 
game." 

4 'The  king  of  all  the  wild  ducks," 
added  Seth. 

"  Undoubtedly,"    continued    Bradley. 


The  Wild-Fowlers        173 

"  He  jumps  like  a  woodcock  when 
flushed.  I  've  seen  him  go  right  up  in 
the  air  twenty  feet  with  one  bound.  All 
other  wild  fowl  take  wing  ordinarily;  just 
scurry  away  over  the  water  any  old  way." 
'  Thet  be  kerrect,"  contributed  old 
Grieb,  broadly  grinning  with  delight  at 
the  popular  natural  history;  "  an'  them 
blackduck  do  know  a  heap  site  more  'n 
eny  other  bird.  I  thinks  they  sleep  all  day 
an'  feeds  all  night  jes'  like  the  night  heron 
('  quock ').  They  rides  in  a  great  mess 
right  out  in  th'  open  ocean  in  th'  deep 
swell  jes'  beyon'  th'  breakers  with  a  king 
drake  an'  a  few  ol'  coots  servin'  es  senti- 
nels, an'  they  come  in  th'  bay  an'  th'  salt 
ponds  an'  creeks  to  feed  when  th'  tide  be 
low  at  night,  an'  early  in  th'  mornirj'. 
They  know  better  'n  teh  come  in  when 
th'  tide  serves  low  in  broad  daylight.  'T 
ain't  enybody  es  ken  take  'em  on  th' 
wing,  nuther,  when  they  do  be  in  range." 
"  No,  Captain;  they  are  the  game  of 
only  the  most  expert  fowlers,  and  are 


174       The  Wild-Fowlers 

never  bagged  by  the  bungler  or  him  of 
the  cheap  iron  weapon/*  added  Doctor 
Bradley. 

"  Now,  genelmen,"  said  Captain  Grieb, 
with  a  rather  serious  change  in  his  tone 
of  voice,  "'  your  box  be  ready,"  and  he 
pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  double  bat- 
tery, now  anchored  in  the  same  spot  the 
single  machine  had  occupied  all  morning 
for  Seth's  special  benefit,  but  resting  with 
its  anchor  end  facing  in  just  the  opposite 
direction  in  which  the  first  battery  had 
been  put  out,  owing  to  the  wind,  which 
had  swung  the  decoy  fleet  around  so  that 
they  rode  heads  pointing  up  the  bay  in- 
stead  of  to  the  west,  as  when  Seth  shot 
over  them. 

But,  reader,  why  prolong  the  narrative  ? 
The  tale  is  told.  The  sportsman  declares 
that  half  the  pleasure  of  a  trip  afield  or 
afloat  is  in  the  preparation,  and  what  our 
sporting  friends  have  here  neglected  In 
this  respect  my  poor  pen  has  tried  its  best 
to  yield.  The  fat  doctors  went  forth  in 


The  Wild-Fowlers        175 

their  battery,  and  they  had  their  share  of 
sport,  though  little  came  to  bag. 

"  By  my  true  soul,  I  was  too  cold  to 
shoot  well/'  said  Corbin. 

"  My  head  was  n't  high  enough  for  me 
to  see  the  birds,"  pleaded  Bradley. 

And  they  all  sat  down  and  did  full  jus- 
tice to  a  hot  supper  of  steaming  biscuits, 
bacon,  and  bay  food,  after  which,  while 
the  sportsmen  smoked  their  favorite 
cigars,  little  Adam  cleared  away  the 
dishes  and  his  father  got  out  the  blankets 
and  shooting  coats  and  spread  them  for 
the  night's  repose.  This  done,  the  bay- 
man  and  his  boy  went  forward  into  the 
decoy  hole  and  made  their  bed  of  hay  and 
tarpaulins,  and — the  pleasant  excitement 
and  natural  exercise  throughout  the  day 
fully  telling  upon  the  five  good  spirits — 
very  soon  every  soul  aboard  the  sturdy 
Coot  was  soundly  and  snugly  housed  in 
dreamland. 

THE  END 


CHARLES   BRADFORD'S   BOOKS 
FOR  GENTLE  SPORTSMEN 


THE  DETERMINED  ANGLER 

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BY  THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 
Hunting  Trips  of  a  Ranchman 

Sketches  of  Sport  on  the  Northern  Cattle  Plains.  With 
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over  the  world." — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

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The  Wilderness  Hunter 

With  an  Account  of  the  Big  Game  of  the  United  States,  and 
its  Chase  with  Horse,  Hound,  and  Rifle.  "With  illustrations 
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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 


Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


1954  L 


VIAR  1     1955  LU 


UNiV.  OF  CA 


•-     II 


\rni9 


RECTIB    JUl  24 72 -8PM  3  6 


INTERLJBRARY  LOAN 


LIF.,  BERK. 


,D  21-100m-ll,'49(B7146sl6)476 


YB   i59i', 


M312309 


